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BEAU GESTE

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

BEAU SABREUR

THE WAGES OF VIRTUE

STEPSONS OF FRANCE

THE SNAKE AND THE
SWORD

FATHER GREGORY
DEW AND MILDEW
DRIFTWOOD SPARS
THE YOUNG STAGERS

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

BEAU GESTE

BY
PERCIVAL CHRISTOPHER WREN

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.

EDITION .... October 1924

Twenty-Seventh Impression . . January 1927

Australian Edition . . . March 1927

Cheaper Edition, 35. 6d. . . March 1927

Reprinted March 1927

Reprinted March 1927

Reprinted ..... April 1927

Reprinted May 1927

Reprinted ..... May 1927

Illustrated Edition de Luxe . . September 1927

Illustrated Edition^ 75. 6d. . . September 1927

Reprinted, 35. 6^ ... November 1927

Reprinted February 1928

CONTENTS

PART I

MAJOR HENRI DE BEAUJOLATS* STORY

CHATTR* PAdl

I. OP THE STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF . . 9

II. GEORGE LAWRENCE TAKES THE STORY TO LADY

BRANDON AT BRANDON ABBAS .... 69

PART II

THE MYSTERY OF THE " BLUE WATER "

I. BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND .... 83

II. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " . 99

III. THE GAY ROMANTICS 154

IV. THE DESERT 249

V. THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 269

VI. A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 342

VII. LfrfMAELITES .... , 384

PART I
MAJOR HENRI DE BEAUJOLAIS' STORY

CHAPTER I
OF THE STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF

TOLD BY MAJOR HENRI DE BEAUJOLAIS OF THE SPAHIS

TO

GEORGE LAWRENCE, ESQ., C.M.G., OF THE
NIGERIAN CIVIL SERVICE

" Tout
lien ce;

*ut cc que je raconte, je I'ai vu, et si j j ai pu tne tromper en It voyant,
'.rtainement je ne vous trompe pas en vous le disant."

"The place was silent and aware."

MR. GEORGE LAWRENCE, C.M.G., First Class
District Officer of His Majesty's Civil Service, sat at
the door of bis tent and viewed the African desert scene with
the eye of extreme disfavour. There was beauty neither in
the landscape nor in the eye of the beholder.

The landscape consisted of sand, stone, kerengia burr-grass,
tafasa underbrush, yellow, long-stalked with long thin bean-
pods ; the whole varied by clumps of the coarse and hideous
tumpafia plant.

The eye was jaundiced, thanks to the heat and foul dust of
Bornu, cj malaria, dysentery, inferior food, poisonous water,
and rapid continuous marching in appalling heat.

Weak and ill in body, Lawrence was worried and anxious
in mind, the one reacting on the other.

In the first place, there was the old standing trouble about
the Shuwa Patrol ; in the second, the truculent Chiboks
were waxing insolent again, and their young men were
regarding not the words of their elders concerning Sir Garnet
Wolseley, and what happened, long, long ago, after the battle

10 BEAU GESTE

of Chibok Hill. Thirdly, the price of grain had risen to six
shillings a saa, and famine threatened ; fourthly, the Shehu
and Shuwa sheiks were quarrelling again ; and, fifthly, there
was a very bad smallpox ju-ju abroad in the land (a secret
Society whose " secret " was to offer His Majesty's liege subjects
the choice between being infected with smallpox, or paying
heavy blackmail to the society). Lastly, there was acrimonious
correspondence with the All-Wise Ones (of the Secretariat in
" Aiki Square " at Zungeru), who, as usual, knew better than
the man on the spot, and bade him do either the impossible or
the disastrous.

And across all the Harmattan was blowing hard, that
terrible wind that carries the Saharan dust a hundred miles
to sea, not so much as a sand-storm, but as a mist or fog of
dust as fine as flour, filling the eyes, the lungs, the pores of
the skin, the nose and throat ; getting into the locks of rifles,
the works of watches and cameras, defiling water, food and
everything else ; rendering life a burden and a curse.

The fact, moreover, that thirty days' weary travel over
burning desert, across oceans of loose wind-blown sand and
prairies of burnt grass, through breast-high swamps, and
across unbridged boatless rivers, lay between him and Kaiio,
added nothing to his satisfaction. For, in spite of all, satis-
faction there was, inasmuch as Kano was rail-head, and the
beginning of the first stage of the journey Homo. That but
another month lay between him and " leave out of Africa/ 1
kept George Lawrence on his feet.

From that wonderful and romantic Red City, Kano, sister
of Timbuktu, the train would take him, after a three days'
dusty journey, to the rubbish-heap called Lagos, on the Bight
of Benin of the wicked West African Coast. There he would
embark on the good ship Appam, greet her commander,
Captain Harrison, and sink into a deck-chair with that glorious
sigh of relief, known in its perfection only to those weary ones
who turn their backs upon the Outposts and set their faces
towards Home.

Meantime, for George Lawrence disappointment, worry,
frustration, anxiety, heat, sand-flies, mosquitoes, dust,
fatigue, fever, dysentery, malarial ulcers, and that great

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 11

depression which comes of monotony indescribable, weariness
unutterable, and loneliness unspeakable.
And the greatest of these is loneliness.

2.

But, in due course, Goorge Lawrenco reached Kano and
the Nassarawa Gate in the East Wall, which leads to the
European segregation, there to wait for a couple of days for
the bi-weekly train to Lagos. These days he whiled away in
strolling about the wonderful Haussa city, visiting the
market-place, exploring its seven square miles of streets of
mud houses, with their ant-proof d^w-palm beams ; watching
the ebb and flow of varied black and brown humanity at the
thirteen great gates in its mighty earthen ramparts ; politely
returning the cheery and respectful " Sanu ! Sanu f " greet-
ings of the Haussas who passed this specimen of the great
Bature race, the wonderful white men.

Idly he compared the value of the caravans of salt or of
ground-nuts with that of the old slave-caravans which the
white man thinks he has recently suppressed ; and casually
passed the time of day with Touareg camel-drivers, who
invited him to hire or buy their piebald, brindled, or white
camels, and., occasionally, a rare and valuable beast of
the tawny reddish buff variety, so prized for speed and
endurance. . . .

On the platform of Kano Station (imagine a platform and
station at Kano, ancient, mysterious, gigantic, emporium of
Central Africa, with its great eleven-mile wall, and its hundred
thousand native inhabitants and its twenty white men ;
Kano, Aght hundred miles from the sea, near the border of
Northern Nigeria which marches with the French Territoire
Militaire of Silent Sahara ; Kano, whence start the caravan
routes to Lake Tchad on the north-east, and Timbuktu on
the north-west) on this incredible platform, George Lawrence
was stirred from his weary apathy by a pleasant surprise in
the form of his old friend, Major Henri de Beaujolais of the
Spahis, now some kind of special staff- officer in the French
Soudan.

12 BEAU GESTB

With de JBoaujolais, Lawrence had been at Ainger's House at
Eton ; and the two occasionally met, as thus, on the Northern
Nigerian Kailway ; on the ships of Messrs. Elder, Dempster ;
at Lord's ; at Longchamps ; at Auteuil ; and, once or twice,
ut the house of their mutual admired friend, Lady Brandon,
at Brandon Abbas in Devonshire.

For de Beaujolais, Lawrence had a great respect and liking,
as a French soldier of the finest type, keen as mustard, hard
as nails, a thorough sportsman, and a gentleman according
to the exacting English standard. Frequently h& paid him
the remarkable English compliment, " One would hardly take
you for a Frenchman, Jolly, you might almost be English,"
a bouquet which de Beaujolais received with less concern
by reason of the fact that his mother had been a Devonshire
Gary.

Although the Spahi officer was heavily bearded, arrayed
in what Lawrence considered hopelessly ill-fitting khaki, and
partially extinguished by a villainous high -domed white
helmet (and looked as truly French as his friend looked truly
English), he, however, did not throw himself with a howl of
joy upon the bosom of his cher Georges, fling his arms about his
neck, kiss him upon both cheeks, nor address him as his little
cabbage. Rather as his old bean, in fact.

A strong hand-grip, " Well, George ! " and, " Hallo !
Jolly, old son," sufficed ; but de Beaujolais* charming smile
and Lawrence's beaming grin showed their mutual delight.

And when the two men were stretched opposite to each
other on the long couches of their roomy compartment, and
had exchanged plans for spending their leave yachting, golf,
and the Moors, on the one hand ; and Paris boulevards, race-
courses, and Monte Carlo, on the other Lawrence fdund that
he need talk no more, for his friend was bursting and bubbling
over with a story, an unfathomable intriguing mystery,
which he must tell or die.

As the train steamed on from Kano Station and its marvel-
lous medley of Arabs, Haussas, Yorubas, Kroos, Egbas, Beri-
Beris, Fulanis, and assorted Nigerians from sarkin, sheikh,
8kehu y and matlaki, to peasant, camel-man, agriculturist,
herdsman, shopkeeper, clerk, soldier, tin-mine worker, and

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 13

nomad, with their women and piccins, the "Frenchman
began his tale.

Through Zaria, Minna Junction, and Zungeru, across the
Jebba Bridge over the Niger, through Ilorin, Oshogbo, and
mighty Ibadan to vast Abeokuta, with brief intervals during*
which Lawrence frankly snored, de Beaujolais told his tale.
But at Abeokuta, George Lawrence received the surprise of
his life and the tale suddenly became of the most vital interest
to him, and from there to Lagos he was all ears.

And as ^he Appam steamed through the sparkling Atlantic,
the Frenchman still told his tale threshed at its mystery,
dissected and discussed it, speculated upon it, and returned
to it at the end of every digression. Nor ever could George
Lawrence have enough since it indirectly concerned the
woman whom he had always loved.

When the two parted in London, Lawrence took it up and
continued it himself, until he, in his turn, brought it back to
his friend and told him its beginning and end.

3.

And the story, which Major Henri de Beaujolais found so
intriguing, he told to George Lawrence as follows :

" I tell ytfu, my dear George, that it is the most extra-
ordinary and inexplicable thing that ever happened. I shall
think of nothing else until I have solved the mystery, and
you must help me. You, with your trained official mind,
detached and calm ; your phlegme Britannique.

Yes you shall be my Sherlock Holmes, and I will be your
wonder-stricken little Watson. Figure me then as the little
Watson ; address me as * My dear Watson.'

Having heard my tale and I warn you, you will hear little
else for the next two or three weeks you must unhesitatingly
make a pronouncement. Something prompt and precise, my
dear friend, hein ? "

" Quite," replied Lawrence. " But suppose you give me
the facts first ? "

" It was like this, my dear Holmes. ... As you are aware,
I am literally buried alive in my present job at Tokotu. But

U BEAU GESTE

yea, with a 'burial-alive such as you of the Nigerian Civil
Service have no faintest possible conception, in the uttermost
Back of Beyond. (You, with your Maiduguri Polo Club !
Pouf !) Yes, interred living, in the southernmost outpost of
the Territoire Militaire of the Sahara, a spot compared with
which the very loneliest and vilest Algerian border-hole would
seem like Sidi-bel-Abb&s itself, Sidi-bel-Abb&s like Algiers,
Algiers like Paris in Africa, and Paris like God's Own Paradise
Ln Heaven.

Seconded from my beloved regiment, far from a boulevard,
a cafe", a club, far, indeed, from everything that makes life
Bupportable to an intelligent man, am I entombed ..."

" I've had some," interrupted Lawrence unsympathetically.
" Get on with the Dark Mystery."

" I see the sun rise and set ; I see the sky above, and the
desert below ; I see my handful of ca/ard-stricken men in my
mud fort, black Senegalese, and white mule-mounted infantry
whom I train, poor devils ; and what eke do I see ? What
else from year's end to year's end ? . . ."

" I shall weep in a minute," murmured Lawrence. " What
about the Dark Mystery ? "

" What do I see ? " continued the Major, ignoring the
unworthy remark. " A vulture. A jackal. A lizard. If I
am lucky and God is good, a slave- caravan from Lake Tchad.
A band of veiled Touaregs led by a Targui bandit-chief,
thirsting for the blood of the hated white Roumi and I bless
them even as I open fire or lead the attack of my mule-
cavalry-playing-at-Spahis . . ."

" The Dark Mystery must have been a perfect godsend,
my dear Jolly," smiled Lawrence, as he extracted his cheroot-
case and extended it to his eloquent friend, lying facing him
on the opposite couch-seat of the uncomfortable carriage of
the Nigerian Railway. " What was it ? "

'* A godsend, indeed," replied the Frenchman. " Sent of
God, surely to save my reason and my life. But I doubt if
the price were not a little high, even for that ! The deaths of
so many brave men. . . . And one of those deaths a dastardly
cold-blooded murder I The vile assassination of a gallant
tws-officier. . . . And by one of his own men. In the very

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 15

hour of glorious victory. . . . One of his own* men I am
certain of it. But why ? Why ? I ask myself night and day.
And now I ask you, my friend. . . . The motive, I ask ? . . .
But you shall hear all and instantly solve the problem, my
dear Holmes, eh ? ...

Have you heard of our little post of Zinderneuf (far, far
north of Zinder which is in the Air country), north of your
Nigeria ? No ? Well you hear of it now, and it is where this
incomprehensible tragedy took place.

Beholc? me then, one devilish hot morning, yawning in my
pyjamas over a gamelle of coffee, in my quarters, while from
the caserne of my legionnaires come the cries of * Aujus,' ' Au
jus, 9 as one carries round the jug of coffee from bed to bed,
and arouses the sleepers to another day in Hell. And then
as I wearily light a wretched cigarette of our beastly caporal,
there comes running my orderly, babbling I know not what
of a dying Arab goum they are always dying of fatigue these
fellows, if they have hurried a few miles on a dying camel,
who cries at the gate that he is from Zinderneuf, and that
there is siege and massacre, battle, murder, and sudden death.
All slain and expecting to be killed. All dead and the buglers
blowing the Regimental Call, the rally, the charge ; making
the devil of a row, and so forth. . . .

' And is it the dying camel that cries all this ? J I ask, even as
I leap into my belts and boots, and rush to the door and shout,
4 A ux armes ! Aux armes ! ' to my splendid fellows and wish
to God they were my Spahis. * But no, Monsieur le Majeur,'
declares the orderly, ' it is the dying goum, dying of fatigue on
the dying camel'

' Then bid him not die, on pain of death, till I Jiave questioned
him,' l*reply as I load my revolver. ' And tell the Sergeant-
Major that an advance-party of the Foreign Legion on camels
marches en tenue de campagne d'Afrique in nine minutes from
when 1 shouted "Aux armes" The rest of them on mules'
You know the sort of thing, my friend. You have turned out
your guard of Haussas of the West African Frontier Force
nearly as quickly and smartly at times, no doubt."

" Oh, nearly, nearly, perhaps. Toujours la politesse,"
murmured Lawrence.

16 BEAU GESTB

" As we rode out of the gate of my fort, I gathered from the
still-dying goum, on the still -dying camel, that a couple of
days before, a large force of Touaregs had been sighted from
the look-out platform of Zinderneuf fort. Promptly the wise
sous-ojficier, in charge and command since the lamented death
of Captain Renouf, had turned the goum loose on his fast
mehari camel, with strict orders not to be caught by the
Touaregs if they invested the fort, but to clear out and trek
with all speed for help as it appeared to be a case of too
heavy odds. If the Touaregs were only playful, a r nd passed
the fort by, after a little sporting pot-s [lotting, he was to
follow them, I suppose, see them safe off the premises for a
day or two, and discover what they were out for.

Well, away went the goum, stood afar off on a sand-hill,
saw the Touaregs skirmish up to the oasis, park their camels
among the palms, and seriously set about investing the place.
He thought it was time for him to go when they had sur-
rounded the fort, were lining the sand-hills, making nice
little trenches in the sand, climbing the palm trees, and
pouring in a very heavy fire. He estimated them at ten
thousand rifles, so I feared that there must be at least five
hundred of the cruel fiends. Anyhow, round wheeled Monsieur
Goum and rode hell-for-leatber, night and day, for help. . . .

Like How we brought the good news from Aix to Ghent, and
Paul Reveres Ride and all. I christened the goum, Paul
Revere, straight away, when I heard his tale, and promised
him all sorts of good things, including a good hiding if 1 found
he had not exceeded the speed limit all the way from Aix to
Ghent. Certainly his * Roland ' looked as if its radiator had
boiled all right. And, Nom d'un nom d'nom de bort Dieu de
sort / but I made a forced march of it, my friend aftd when
we of the Nineteenth African Division do that, even on mules
and camels, you can hardly see us go."

" Oh, come now ! I am sure your progress is perceptible,"
said Lawrence politely. " Specially on camels, and all that. . . .
You're too modest," he added.

" I mean you can hardly see us go for dust and small stones,
by reason of our swiftness. . . . Any more than you can see
a bullet, witty one," rebuked de Beaujolais.

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 17

" Oh, quite, quite," murmured the Englishman.

" Anyhow, I was away with the advance- party on swift
mehari camels, a mule-squadron was following, and a com-
pany of Senegalese would do fifty kilometres a day on foot till
they reached Zinderneuf. Yes, and, in what I flatter myself
is the unbreakable record time between Tokotu and Zinder-
neuf, we arrived and, riding far on in advance of my men,
I listened for the sound of firing or of bugle-calls.

I heard no sound whatever, and suddenly topping a ridge
1 came in* sight of the fort there below me on the desert
plain, near the tiny oasis.

There was no fighting, no sign of Touaregs, no trace of
battle or siege. No blackened ruins strewn with mutilated
corpses here. The Tri-coulcur flew merrily from the flag-staff,
and the fort looked absolutely normal a square grey block
of high, thick mud walls, flat castellated roof, flanking towers,
and lofty look-out platform. All was well ! The honour of
the Flag of France had been well defended. I waved my
kepi above my head and shouted aloud in my glee.

Perhaps I began composing my Report then and there, doing
modest justice to the readiness, promptitude, and dispatch of
my little force, which had maintained the glorious traditions
of the Nineteenth African Division ; giving due praise to the
sous-ojjicier commanding Zinderneuf, and not forgetting Paul
Revere and his Roland. . . . Meanwhile, they should know
that relief was at hand, and that, be the Touaregs near or
be they far, the danger was over and the Flag safe. I, Henri
de Beaujolais of the Spahis, had brought relief. I fired my
revolver half a dozen times in the air. And then I was aware
of a small but ren?irkable fact. The high look-out platform
at the t8f> of its long ladder was empty.

Strange ! Very strange ! Incredibly strange, at the very
moment when great marauding bands of Touaregs were
known to be about and one of them had only just been beaten
ofi, and might attack again at any moment. I must offer the
sous-officier my congratulations upon the excellence of his
look-out, as soon as 1 had embraced and commended him !
New as he might be to independent command, this should
never have happened. One would have thought he could as

18 BEAU GESTE

soon have -forgotten his boots as his sentry on the look-out
platform.

A pretty state of affairs, bon Dieu, in time of actual war !
Here was I approaching the fort in broad light of day, firing my
revolverand not the slightest notice taken ! I might have been
the entire Touareg nation or the whole German army. , . .

No, there must be something wrong, in spite of the peaceful
look of things and the safety of the Flag and I pulled out
my field-glasses to see if they would reveal anything missed
by the naked eye.

As I halted and waited for my camel to steady himself, that
I might bring the glasses to bear, I wondered if it were possible
that this was an ambush.

Could the Arabs have captured the place, put the defenders
to the sword, put on their uniforms, cleaned up the mess,
closed the gates, left the Flag flying, and now be waiting for
a relieving force to ride, in trustful innocence and close
formation, up to the muzzles of their rifles ? Possible but
quite unlike brother Touareg ! You know what his way is,
when he has rushed a post or broken a square. A dirty
fighter, if ever there was one ! And as I focussed my glasses
on the walls, I rejected the idea.

Moreover, yes, there were the good European faces of the
men at the embrasures, bronzed and bearded, but unmistak-
ably not Arab. . . .

And yet, that again was strange. At every embrasure of
the breast-high parapet round the flat roof stood a soldier,
staring out across the desert, and most of them staring along
their levelled rifles too ; some of them straight at me. Why ?
There was no enemy about. Why were they not- sleeping the
sleep of tired victors, below on their cots in the cas&iie, while
double sentries watched from the high look-out platform ?
Why no man up there, and yet a man at every embrasure
that I could see from where I sat on my camel, a thousand
metres distant ?

And why did no man move ; no man turn to call out to a
sergeant that a French officer approached ; no man walk to
the door leading down from the roof, to inform the Com-
mandant of the fort ?

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 19

Anyhow, the little force had been extraordinarily lucky,
or the shooting of the Arabs extraordinarily bad, that they
should still be numerous enough to man the walls in that
fashion ' all present and correct,' as you say in your army
.and able to stand to arms thus, after two or three days of it,
more or less.

As I lowered my glasses and urged my camel forward, I
came to the conclusion that I was expected, and that the
officer in charge was indulging in a little natural and excusable
fantaisie, showing off what you call ' putting on the dog,'
ch ?

He was going to let me find everything as the Arabs found
it when they made their foolish attack every man at his
post and everything klim-bim. Yes, that must bo it. ...
Ah, it was ! Even as I watched, a couple of shots were fired
from the wall. They had seen me. . . . The fellow, in his
joy, was almost shooting at me, in fact !

And yet nobody on the look-out platform ! How I
would prick that good fellow's little bubble of swank ! And
I smiled to myself as I rode under the trees of the oasis to
approach the gates of the fort.

It was the last time I smiled for quite a little while.

Among the palm trees were little pools of dried and
blackened blood where men had fallen, or wounded men had
been laid, showing that, however intact the garrison of the
fort might be, their assailants had paid toll to the good Lcbcl
rifles of my friends.

And then I rode out from the shade of the oasis and up to
the gate.

Here hajf a dozen or so kept watch, looking out over the
wall above, as they leant in the embrasures of the parapet.
The nearest was a huge fellow, with a great bushy grey
moustache, from beneath which protruded a short wooden
pipe. His Icipi was cocked rakishly over one eye, as he stared
hard at me with the other, half closed and leering, while he
kept his rifle pointed straight at my head.

I was glad to feel certain that he at least was no Arab,
but a tough old legionary, a typical vieille moustache, and
rough soldier of fortune. But I thought his joke a poor one

20 BEAU GESTE

and over-personal, as I looked up into the muzzle of his
unwavering riflo. . . .

' Congratulations, my children, 9 I cried. ' France and I are
proud to salute you, 1 and raised my kepi in homage to their
courage and their victory.

Not one of them saluted. Not one of them answered.
Not one of them stirred. Neither a finger nor an eyelid
moved. 1 was annoyed. If this was * making fantaisie,' aa
they call it in the Legion, it was making it at^the wrong
moment and in the wrong manner.

* Have yon oj the Foreign Legion no manners ? ' I shouted.
* Go, one of you, at once, and call your officer.* Not a finger nor
an eyelid moved.

I then addressed myself particularly to old Grey -Moustache.
' You/ 1 said, pointing up straight at his face, * go at once and
tell your (Commandant that Major de fieaujolais of the Spahis
has arrived from Tokotu with a relieving force and take thai
pipe out of your face and step smartly, do you hear ? '

And then, my friend, I grow a little uncomfortable, though
the impossible truth did not dawn upon mo. Why did the
fellow remain like a graven image, silent, motionless, remote
like an Egyptian god on a temple wall, looking with stony and
unseeing eye into my puny human face ?

Why were they all like stone statues ! Why was the fort
BO utterly and horribly silent ? Why did nothing move, there
in the fierce sunlight of the dawn ? Why this tomb-like,
charnel-house, inhuman silence and immobility ?

Where were the usual sounds and stir of an occupied post ?
Why had no sentry seen mo from afar and cried the news
aloud ? Why had there been no clang and clatter atthe gate !
Why had the gate not been opened ? Why no voice, no
footstep in all the place ? Why did these men ignore me aa
though I were a beetle on the sand ? Where was their
officer ? , . .

Was this a nightmare in which I seemed for ever doomed
to ride voiceless and invisible, round endless wails, trying to
attract the attention of those who could never be aware
of me ?

When, as in a dream, I rode right round the place, and

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 21

beheld more and more of those motionless silent forms, with
their fixed, unwinking eyes, I clearly saw that one of them,
whose kepi had fallen from his head, had a hole in the centre
of his forehead and was dead although at his post, with
chest and elbows leaning on the parapet, and looking as
though about to fire his rifle !

I am rather near-sighted , as you know, but then the truth
dawned upon me they were all (Jead !

' Why were they not sleepiiig the sleep of tired victors ? ' I
had askedjnyself a few minutes before. They were. . . .

Yes, all of them. Mort sur le champ d'honneur / . . .

My friend, I rode back to where Grey -Moustache kept his
last watch, and, baring my head, I made my apologies to
him, and the tears came into my uyos. Yes, and I, Henri de
Beaujolais of the Spahis, admit it without shame.

I said, ' Forgive me, my friend.' What would you, an
Englishman, have said ? "

" What about a spot of tea ? " quoth Mr. George Lawrence,
reaching beneath the seat for his tiffin-basket.

4.

After a dusty meal, impatiently swallowed by Major de
Beaujolais, that gentleman resumed his story, with serious
earnestness and some gesticulation, while, on the opposite
side of the carriage, George Lawrence lay upon his back, his
clasped hands beneath his head, idly watching the smoke
that curled up from his cheroot. But he was paying closer
attention to the Frenchman's tale.

" But, of course, it soon occurred to me," continued that
gentleman, " that someone must be alive. . . . Shots had
been fired to welcome me. . . . Those corpses had not of
themselves taken up those incredibly life-like attitudes. Who-
ever had propped them up and arranged them and their
rifles in position, must be alive.

For, naturally, not all had been struck by Arab bullets and
remained standing in the embrasures. Nine times out of ten,
as you know, a man staggers back and falls, when shot stand-
ing.

22 BEAU GESTE

Besides,. what about the wounded ? There is always a far
bigger percentage of wounded than of killed in any engage-
ment. Yes, there must be survivors, possibly all more or less
wounded, below in the caserne.

But surely one of them might have kept a look-out. Prob-
ably the Commandant and all the non-commissioned officers
were killed.

Even then, tlungh, one would have expected the senior
man even if the survivors were all soldats deuxieme classe
to have taken that much ordinary military precaution ! . . .

Well, I would soon solve the problem, for my troop was
approaching, my trumpeter with them. I was glad to note
that my Sergeant-Ma j or had evidently had a similar idea to
mine, for, on coming in sight of the fort, he had opened out
and skirmished up in extended order in spite of the bravely-
flying Flag.

When my men arrived, I had the * rouse,' the ' alarm,' the
Regimental Call, sounded by the trumpeter fully expecting,
after each blast, that the gates would open, or at least that
someone would come running up from below on to the roof.

Not a sound nor a movement ! . . . Again and again ; call
aftpr call. . . . Not a sound nor a movement !

* Perhaps the last one or two are badly wounded/ thought
I. ' There may not be a man able to crawl from his bed.
The fellow who propped those corpses up may have been shot
in the act, and be lying up there, or on his cot,' and I bade
the trumpeter cease. Sending for the Chef, as we call the
Sergeant-Major, I ordered him to knot camel-cords, sashes,
girths, reins, anything, make a rope, and set an active fellow
to climb from the back of a camel, into an embrasure, and
give me a hoist up.

That Sergeant-Ma j or is one of the bravest and coolest
men I have ever known, and his collection of ferblanterie in-
cludes the Croix and the Medaille given on the field, for
valour.

* It is a trap, mon Commandant,' said he. ' Do not walk
into it. Let me go.' Brave words but he looked queer,
and I knew that though he feared nothing living, he was
afraid.

STKANGB EVENTS AT Z1NDERNEUF 23

' The dead keep good watch, Chef,' said I, and I think he
shivered.

' They would warn us, mon Commandant,' said he. * Let
me go.'

' We will neither of us go/ said I. ' We will have the courage
to remain in our proper place, with our men. It may be a
trap, though I doubt it. We will send a man in, and if it
is a trap, we shall know and without losing an officer un-
necessarily. If it is not a trap, the gates will be opened in
two minute^'

' The Dead are watching and listening,' said the Chef,
glancing up, and he crossed himself, averting his eyes.

' Send me that drunken mauvais sujet, Rastignac/ said I,
and the Sergeant-Major rode away.

' May I go, mon Commandant ? ' said the trumpeter,
saluting.

1 Silence/ said I. My nerves were getting a little on edge,
under that silent, mocking scrutiny of the watching Dead.
When the Sergeant-Ma j or returned with a rope, and the
rascal Rastignac whose proper place was in the Joyeux,
the terrible Penal Battalions of convicted criminals I
ordered him to climb from his camel on to the roof.

' Not I, mon Offkier,' replied he promptly. * Let me go to
Hell dead, not living. I don't mind joining corpses as a corpse.
You can shoot mo/

' That can I, of a surety/ I agreed, and drew my revolver.
' Ride your camel under that projecting water-spout/ said
I. * Stand on its back, and spring to the spout. Climb into
the embrasure, and then go down and open the gates.'

* Not I, mon Officier,' said Rastignac again. I raised
my revolver, and the Sergeant-Major snatched the man's
rifle.

' Have you le cafard ? ' I asked, referring to the desert-
madness that, bred of monotony, boredom, misery, and
hardship, attacks European soldiers in these outposts
especially absinthe-drinkers and makes them do strange
things, varying from mutiny, murder, and suicide to dancing
about naked, or thinking they are lizards or emperors or
clock-pendulums.

24 BEAU GESTE

' I have* a dislike for intruding upon a dead Company that
stands to arms and keeps watch/ replied the fellow.

' For the last time go,' said I, aiming between his eyes.

' Go yourself, Monsieur le Majeur,' replied Rastignac, and
I pulled the trigger. . . . Was I right, my friend ? "

" Dunno," replied Lawrence, yawning.

" There was a click, and Rastignac smiled. 1 had emptied
my revolver when approaching the fort, as I have told you.

* You can live to be court-marti ailed and join the Batt
d'Af,' said I. * You will be well placed among tfo Joyeux.'

* Better among those than the Watchers above, mon
Officicr^ said my beauty, and 1 bade the Sergeant-Major take
his bayonet and put him under arrest.

* You may show this coward the way/ said I to the trum-
peter, and, in a minute, that one had sprung at the spout,
clutched it, aud was scrambling on to the wall. He was un
brave.

1 We will proceed as though the place were held by an
enemy until the gates are opened/ said I to the Sergeant-
Ma j or, and we rode back to the troop and handed Rastignac
over to the Corporal, who clearly welcomed him in the role
of prisoner.

* Vous pour la boite, smiled the Corporal, licking his lips.
And then we watched and waited. I could see that the men
were immensely puzzled and intrigued. Not an eye wandered.
I would have given something to have known what each man
thought concerning this unique experience. A perfectly
silent fort, the walls fully manned, the Flag flying and the
gates shut. No vestige of a sign from that motionless garrison
staring out into the desert, aiming their rifles at nothing and
at us. . . .

We watched and waited. Two minutes passed ; five ;
six ; seven. What could it mean ? Was it a trap after all ?

* That one won't return ! ' said Rastignac loudly, and gave
an eerie jarring laugh. The Corporal smote him on the mouth,
and I heard him growl, * What about a little crapaudine 1 and
a mouthful of sand, my friend ? . . . You speak again ! ' . . .

1 Torture. The hands and feet tied together in a bunch in the middle
of the back.

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 25

At the end of ten minutes, a very mauvais quart d'heure, I
beckoned the Sergeant-Major. I could stand the strain no
longer.

* I am going in,' said I. * I cannot send another man,
although I ought to do so. Take command. ... If you do
not see me within ten minutes, and nothing happens, assault
the place. Burn down the gates and let a party climb the
walls, while another charges in. Keep a half-troop, under
the Corporal, in reserve/

* Let me ^go, mon Commandant* begged the Chef, t if you
will not send another soldier. Or call for a volunteer to go.
Suppose you . . .'

' Silence, Chef,' I replied, * I am going, 7 and I rode back to
the fort. Was I right, George ? "

" Dunno," replied George Lawrence.

" I remember thinking, as I rode back, what a pernicious
fool I should look if, under the eyes of all the living and the
dead I failed to accomplish that, by no means easy, scramble,
and had ignominiously to admit my inability to climb up where
the trumpeter had gone. It is sad when one's vile body falls
below the standard set by the aspiring soul, when the strength
of the muscles is inadequate to the courage of the heart. . . .

However, all went well, and, after an undignified dangling
from the spout, and wild groping with the raised foot, I got a
leg over the ledge, scrambled up and crawled into an embrasure.

And there I stood astounded and dumbfounded, tout
bouleverse, unable to believe my eyes.

There, as in life, stood the garrison, their backs to me, their
faces to the foe whom they had driven off, their feet in dried
pools of their own blood watching, watching. . . . And
soon I forgot what might be awaiting me below, I forgot my
vanished trumpeter, I forgot my troop waiting without /or
there was something else.

Lying on his back, his sightless eyes out-staring the sun
lay the Commandant, and through his heart, a bayonet, one
of our long, thin French sword-bayonets with its single-curved
hilt ! No he had not been shot, he was absolutely untouched
elsewhere, and there he lay with a French bayonet through
his heart. What do you say to that, my friend ? "

26 BEAU GESTE

" Suicide," replied Lawrence.

" And so did I, until I realised that he had a loaded re-
volver in one hand, one chamber fired, and a crushed letter
in the other ! Does a man drive a bayonet through his heart,
and then take a revolver in one hand and a sheet of paper in
the other ? I think not.

Have you ever seen a man drive a bayonet through his
heart, my friend ? Believe me, he does not fumble for letters,
nor draw a revolver and fire it, after he has done that. No.
He gasps, stares, staggers. He grips the haitflle and the
forte of the blade with both hands, totters, stretches convul-
sively, and collapses, crashing to the ground. ... In any
case, does a man commit suicide with a bayonet when he has
a loaded revolver ? . . . Suicide ? Pouf.

Was it any wonder that my jaw dropped and I forgot all
else, as I stared and stared. . . . Voyez done ! A French fort
in the Sahara, besieged by Arabs. Every man killed at his
post. The Arabs beaten oil. The fort inviolate, untrodden
by Arab foot. The gates closed. Within the dead, and one
of them slain by a French bayonet while he held a loaded
revolver in his hand ! . . .

But was the fort inviolate and untrodden by Arab foot ?
If so, what had become of my trumpeter ? Might not the
Arabs be hiding below, waiting their opportunity to catch
the relieving force unawares ? Might not there be an Arab
eye at every rifle -slit ? Might not the caserne, rooms, offices,
sheds, be packed with them ?

Absurdly improbable and why should they have slain the
Commandant with a French bayonet ? Would they not have
hacked him to pieces with sword and spear, and have mutilated
and decapitated every corpse in the place ? Was^t like the
wild Touareg to lay so clever a trap with the propped-up
bodies, that a relieving force might fall into their hands as
well ? Never. Peaudezebie ! Had the Arabs entered here,
the place would have been a looted, blackened ruin, defiled,
disgusting, strewn with pieces of what had been men. No,
this was not Arab work.

These Watchers, I felt certain, had been compelled by this
dead man, who lay before me, to continue as defenders of the

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 27

fort after their deaths. ... He was evidently A man. A
bold resourceful, undaunted hero, sardonic, of a macabre
humour, as the Legion always is.

As each man fell, throughout that long and awful day, he
had propped him up, wounded or dead, set the rifle in its
place, fired it, and bluffed the Arabs that every wall and every
embrasure and loophole of every wall was fully manned.
He must, at the last, have run from point to point, firing a
rifle from behind its dead defender. Every now and then he
must have blown the alarm that the bugler would never blow
again, in the hope that it would guide and hasten the relieving
force and impress the Arabs with fear that the avengers
must be near.

No wonder the Arabs never charged that fort, from each
of whose walls a rifle cracked continuously, and from whose
every embrasure watched a fearless man whom they could not
kill or whose place seemed to be taken, at once, by another,
if they did kill him. . . .

All this passed through my mind in a few seconds and
as I realised what he had done and how he had died in the
hour of victory, murdered, my throat swelled though my
blood boiled and I ventured to give myself the proud
privilege of kneeling beside him and pinning my own Croix
upon his breast though I could scarcely see to do so. I
thought of how France should ring with the news of
his heroism, resource, and last glorious fight, and how
every Frenchman should clamour for the blood of his
murderer.

Only a poor aoua-officier of the Legion. But a hero for
France to honour. . . . And I would avenge him I

Such were my thoughts, my friend, as I realised the truth
what are yours ? "

" Time for a spot of dinner," said George Lawrence, start-
ing up.

5*

Next morning, as the two lay awake on their dusty bedding,
begrimed, tousled, pyjama-clad, awaiting the next stop, bath,
and breakfast, de Beaujolais lit a cigarette, turned on his

28 BEAU GESTE

side, and fixed his friend with the earnest troubled gaze of his
bright brown eye.

" Well, George, who killed him and why ? "

"Oh, Ancient Mariner ! " yawned Lawrence.

" What ? "

" I feel like the Wedding Guost."

" You look like one, my George," smiled the Frenchman.

" Get on with it, Jolly."

" How was the Commandant of that fort killed ? "

" Someone * threatens I his life with a railwa^share.' "

" Be serious, little George. I want your help. I must get
to the bottom of this. Where did I leave oil? "

" God knows. I was asleep."

" Ah ! I was on the roof, pinning my Croix on the breast
of the bravest man I have ever met. Your General Gordon in
miniature ! This obscure and humble soul had kept his
country's Flag flying, as that great man did at Khartoum,
and, like him, he had been relieved too late. But yes, and
there it flapped above my head and recalled me to myself.

I rose, drew my revolver, loaded it, and walked to the
door. As I was about to descend into that silence I had
a little idea. I looked at each of the Watchers in turn. No.
Each man had his bayonet, of course. I had not really sup-
posed that one of them had stabbed his officer and then gone
back to his post and died on his feet ! He would have fallen
or possibly have hung limply through the embrasure. I
raised my weapon and descended the stairs -expecting I
know not what, in that sinister stillness that had swallowed
up my trumpeter. And what do you think I found there,
my friend ? "

" Dunno," said George Lawrence.

" 'Nothing. No one and nothing. Not even the man who
had fired the two shots of welcome ! ... As I had felt sure,
really, all along, no Arab had entered the fort. That leapt to
the eye at once. The place was as tight shut as this fist of
mine and as empty of Arab traces. The caserne was as
orderly and tidy as when the men left it and stood to arms-
the paquetages on the shelves, the table-apparatus in the
hanging cupboards, the gamdles and cleaning-bags at the

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 29

heads of the beds, the bedding folded and straight. There had
evidently been room -inspection just before the sentry on the
look-out platform had cried, * Aux armes / Aux armes I Les
Arabes I ' and all had rushed to their posts.

No, not a thing was missing or awry. The whole place
might just have been made ready by an outgoing garrison,
to be taken over by the incoming garrison. No Arab had
scaled those walls nor wriggled through the keyhole of the
gate. The stores were untouched the rice, the biscuits,
bread, coffee* wine, nothing was missing . . ."

" Except a rifle/* grunted Lawrence.

" My friend, you've said it ! Where was the rifle belonging
to the bayonet that was driven through the heart of the mur-
dered officer up above ? That was precisely the question that
my crazed mind was asking itself as I realised that the fort
had never been entered.

Had a corpse bayonetted that so'iis-officier, returned to its
post, and flung the rifle to the horizon ? Scarcely.

Had an Arab expert in throwing knife or bayonet as in
throwing the matralc possessed himself of a French bayonet,
after some desert-massacre of one of our tiny expeditionary
columns ? And had he got near enough to the fort to throw
it 1 And had it by chance, or skill of the thrower, penetrated
the heart of the Commandant of the garrison ? "

" Possibly," said Lawrence.

" So 1 thought for a moment," replied de Beaujolais,
" though why a man armed with a breech-loading rifle,
should leave the cover of his sand-hill, trench, or palm tree,
and go about throwing bayonets, I don't know. And then
I remembered that the bayonet went through the breast of
the sous-officic.r in a slightly upward direction from front to
back. Could a bayonet be thrown thus into the middle of a
wide roof ? "

" Sold again," murmured Lawrence.

" No, J had to abandon that idea. As untenable as the
returning- corpse theory. And 1 was driven, against common
sense, to conclude that the officer had been bayonetted by one
of his own men, the solo survivor, who had then detached
the rifle from the bayonet and fled from the fort. But why ?

30 BEAU GESTE

Why ? If such was the explanation of the officer's death
why on earth had not the murderer shot him and calmly
awaited the arrival of the relieving force ?

Naturally all would have supposed that the brave Com-
mandant had been shot, like all the rest, by the Arabs.

Instead of fleeing to certain death from thirst and starva-
tion, or torture at the hands of the Arabs, why had not the
murderer awaited, in comfort, the honours, reclame, reward,
and promotion that would most assuredly have been his ?
Obviously, the man who lusting for blood and engeance on
account of some real or fancied wrong could murder his
superior at such a moment, would be the very one to see the
beauty of getting a rich and glorious reward as a sequel to
hiti revenge. Without a doubt he would have shot him
through the head, propped him up with the rest, and accepted
the congratulations of the relieving force for having con-
ceived and executed the whole scheme of outwitting and
defeating the Arabs. Wouldn't he, George ? "

" / would," replied George, scratching his head.

" Yee, you would. And i almost sent that theory to join
the other two wild ones the corpse who returned to its
post, and the Arab who threw sword-bayonets from afar.
Almost until I remembered that revolver in the dead man's
hand, and the empty cartridge-case in one of its chambers.
And then I asked myself, * Does a man who is conducting
the defence of a block-house, against tremendous odds,
waste time in taking pot-shots with a revolver at concealed
enemies, two or throe hundred yards distant ? Does he do
that, with hundreds of rounds of rifle ammunition and a score
of rifles to his hand ? ' Of course not.

That revolver shot was fired at someone in tiie fort. It
was fired point-blank at the man who murdered him and the
murderer must have been one of his own men, and that man
must have fled from the fort. But again, why ? Why 1 Why ?

Why not have shot his officer, as I said before ? Ho would
never have had even the need to deny having done it, for no
one would have dreamt of accusing him.

And then I had an idea. I suddenly said to xnysolf , ' Sup-
pose some scoundrel bayonetted the Commandant even before

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUP 31

the alarm was given or the attack began and then organised
the defence and died at his post with the others f '

Led a mutiny of the garrison, perhaps ; took command ;
and was shot and propped up in his embrasure by someone
else. Yes, but who propped the last man up ? lie did not
do it himself, that was certain for every single corpse on
that roof had been arranged before rigor mortis set in. The
only man who was not * to the life ' was one who lay on his
back. It was curious, that recumbent corpse with closed
eyes and folded hands, but I did not see that it offered any
clue. Whoever had been doing the ghastly work of corpse-
drilling had overlooked it or, indeed, had been going to
set the dead man up when the final tragedy, whatever it was,
occurred.

It may have been that the brave sous-officier was going to
arrange this very corpse when he was attacked. Or, as I
say, the officer may have been dead the whole time, or part
of it, and the last survivor may have had this last work cut
short by a bullet, before he had put the man in position.

But if so, where was he ? ... Was it the man who had
fired the two shots in answer to mine- and if so, what had
become of him ? Why had he fired if he wished to hide or
escape ?

My head spun. I felt I was going mad.

And then I said to myself, * Courage, mon brave ! Go calmly
up to that terrible roof again, and just quietly and clearly
make certain of two points. First : Is there any one of those
standing corpses who has not quite obviously been arranged,
propped up, fixed in position ? If so iliat is the man who
lulled his officer and was afterwards shot by the Arabs.
Secondly : Has any one of those dead men been shot point-
blank with a revolver ? (That I should be able to tell at a
glance.) If BO, that is the man who killed his officer (who
lived long enough to thrust his assailant into an embra-
sure)

" After himself being bayonetted through the heart ? "
enquired Lawrence.

" Exactly what I said to myself and groaned aloud as I
said it," replied de Beaujolais.

32 BEAU GESTE

" Anyhow," he continued, " I would go up and see if any
man had been shot by a revolver, and if any man lay naturally
against the slope of an embrasure. ... I turned to ascend
the stair, and then, Georgo, and not till then, I got the
real shock of that awful day of shocks. For, where was my
trumpeter ?

I had made a quick but complete tour of the place and now
realised in a flash that I had seen no living thing and heard no
sound.

' Trompette ! Trompette ! ' I shouted. I rushed to the door
leading to the courtyard, the little interior, high-walled
parade ground.

* Trompette ! ' I shouted and yelled, again and again, till
my voice cracked.

Not a sound. Not a movement.

And then, in something like panic, putting all else from
my mind, I rushed to the gates, lifted down the great bars,
pulled the heavy bolts, turned the great key, and dragged
them open just as the mule-squadron arrived and my good
Sergeant-Ma j or was giving them the signal to join the
assault !

It was not that I had suddenly remembered that the time
I had allowed him must be up, but that I needed to see a
human being again, to hear a human voice, after a quarter
of an hour in that House of Death, that sinister abode of tragic
mysteries. I felt an urgent and unconquerable yearning for
some . . ."

" Breakfast/' said George Lawrence, as the train slowed
down.

6.

Bathed, full-fed, and at peace with a noisy world, in so far
as choking dust, grilling heat, and the weariness of three days'
close confinement in a stufly carriage allowed, the two com-
pagnons de voyage lay and smoked the cheroot of digestion
in a brief silence. Brief, because it was not in the power of
the impulsive and eloquent beau sabreur, of the Spahis, to
keep silence for long upon the subject uppermost in his active
and ardent mind.

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 33

" Georges, won vieux" he broke silence, " do you believe in
spirits, ghosts, devils ? "

" I firmly believe in whiskey, the ghost of a salary, and a
devil of a thin time. Seen 'em myself," was the reply.

" Because the only solution that my Sergeant-Ma j or could
offer was just that. . . .

1 Spirits ! Ghosts ! Devils ! ' he whispered, when he realised
that the sous-qfficier had been murdered apparently by a
corpse, and that the trumpeter had absolutely vanished into
thin air, leaving not a trace of himself, and effecting the evapo-
ration of his rifle as well as of his trumpet and everything else.

This was not very helpful, strongly as I was tempted to
endorse it.

* Sergeant-Major Dufour,' said I, ' I am going to propound
theories and you are going to find the weak points in them.
The absurdities and idiocies in them.

Post vedettes far out, all round the place, and let the men
fall out and water their beasts in the oasis. Sergeant Lebaudy
will be in command. Tell him that fires may be lighted and
soupe made, but that in an hour's time all are to be on grave-
digging fatigue. He is to report immediately when mule-
scouts from Lieutenant St. Andre's advance Senegalese arrive
from Tokotu, or if anything happens meanwhile. If a vedette
gives the alarm, all are to enter the fort immediately other-
wise no one is to set foot inside. Put a sentry at the gate. . . .
You and I will look into this affaire while Achmet makes us
some coffee ' and I gave the good fellow a cake of chocolate
and a measure of cognac from my flask. We were both glad
of that cognac.

While he was gone on this business I remained on the roof.
I preferred the sunlight while I was alone. I freely admit it.
I do not object to Arabs, but I dislike * spirits, ghosts, and
devils ' that commit murders and abductions. Perhaps I
was not quite myself. But what would you ? I had been
enjoying fever ; I had ridden all night ; I was perilously near
cafard myself ; and the presence of those dead Watchers to
whom I had spoken, the finding of that incredibly murdered
man, the not finding of that more incredibly vanished trum-
peter had shaken me a little.

34 BEAU GE8TE

As I awaited the return of the Sergeant-Ma j or I gazed
at the corpse of the sous-offider. I stared and stared at the
face of the dead man not too pleasant a sight, George
contorted with rage, and pain, and hate dead for some hours
and it was getting hot on that roof and there were flies . . .
flies. . . .

I stared, I say, as though I would drag the truth from him,
compel the secret of this mystery from his dead lips, hypnotise
those dead eyes to turn to mine and but no, it was he that
hypnotised and compelled, until I was fain to loojt away.

As I did so, I noticed the man who was lying near. Yes,
undoubtedly someone had carefully and reverently laid him
out. His eyes had been closed, his head propped up on a
pouch, and his hands folded upon his chest. Why had he
received such different treatment from that meted out to
the others ? . . .

And then that bareheaded man. It was he a very hand-
some fellow too who had given me my first shock and brought
it home to my wondering mind that the men who watched
me were all dead.

You see, all but he had their faces in the deep shade of the
big peaks of their kepis whilst he, bareheaded and shot
through the centre of the forehead, was dead obviously
even to shortsighted me, looking up from below against the
strong sunlight ; even to me, deceived at first by his lifelike
attitude.

And, as I glanced at their two Mpis lying there, I noticed
something peculiar.

One had been wrenched and torn from within. The lining,
newly ripped, was protruding, and the inner leather band
was turned down and outward. It was as though^omething
had recently been torn violently out of the cap something
concealed in the lining perhaps ? . . .

No, it was not the freak of a ricochetting bullet. The
standing man had been hit just above the nose and under the
cap, the recumbent man was hit in the chest.

* Now what is this ? ' thought I. ' A man shot through
the brain does not remove his cap and tear the lining out.
He gives a galvanic start, possibly spins round, and quietly

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 35

he falls backwards. His limbs stretch once and .quiver, and
he is still for ever. His tight-fitting cap may, or may not,
fall off as he goes down but there is no tearing out of the
lining, no turning down of the leather band/

Bullets play funny tricks, I know, but not upon things-
they do not touch. This bullet had been fired, I should say,
from a palm tree, and almost on a level with the roof ; any-
how, it had entered the head below the cap. There was no
hole in that whatsoever. To which of these two men did the
cap belong*? . . .

Had all been normal in that terrible place, all lying dead
as they had fallen, I might never have noticed this torn cap.
As it was where everything was extraordinary, and the
mind of the beholder filled with suspicion and a thousand
questions, it was most interesting and remarkable. It became
portentous. It was one more phenomenon in that focus of
phenomena !

And from that cap and its recently torn and still protruding
lining oh yes, most obviously torn quite recently, with its
edging of unsoiled threads, frayed but clean from that cap,
I looked quite instinctively at the paper crushed in the left
hand of the dead officer. I know not why I connected these
two things in my mind. They connected themselves perhaps
and I was about to take the paper from the rigid fist, when
I thought, * No ! Everything shall be done in order and with
correctness. I will touch nothing, do nothing, until the
Sergeant-Ma j or returns and I have a witness/

If I was to be procureur, juge d 'instruction, judge and jury,
coroner, and perhaps, avenger everything should be done
in due form and my report upon the impossible affair be
of some *alue, too.

But without touching the paper, I could see, and I saw with
surprise though the bo n Dieu knows I had not much capacity
for surprise left in my stunned mind that the writing was
in English !

Why should that be added to my conundrums ? . . . A
paper with English writing on it, in the hand of a dead French
officer in a block-house in the heart of the Territoire Militaire
of the Sahara ! "

36 BEAU GESTE

" Perhaps the bloke was English," suggested Lawrence.
" I have heard that there are some in the Legion."

" No," was the immediate reply. " That he most certainly
was not. A typical Frenchman of the Midi a stoutish,
'florid, blue-jowled fellow of full habit. Perhaps a Proven$al
thousands like him in Marseilles, Aries, Nimes, Avignon,
Carcassonne, Tarascon. Might have been the good Tartarin
himself. Conceivably a Belgian ; possibly a Spaniard or
Italian, but most certainly not an Englishman. . . . Still
less was the standing man, an olive-cheeked 'Italian or
Sicilian."

" And the recumbent bareheaded chap ? " said Lawrence.

" Ah quite another affair, that ! He might very well have
been English. In fact, had I been asked to guess at his
nationality, I should have said, * A Northerner certainly,
English most probably.* He would have been well in the
picture in the Officers' Mess of one of your regiments. Just
the type turned out by your Public Schools and Universities
by the thousand.

What you are thinking is exactly what occurred to me.
English writing on the paper ; an English-looking legionary ;
his cap lying near the man who held the paper crushed in his
hand ; the lining just torn out of the cap ! . . . Ha ! Here
was a little glimmer of light, a possible clue. I was just recon-
structing the scene when I heard the Sergeant-Major ascending
the stair. . . .

Had this Englishman killed the sous-offieier while the latter
tore some document from the lining of the man's cap !
Obviously not. The poor fellow's bayonet was in its sheath
at his side, and if he had done ithow had he got himself put
into position ? " *

" Might have been shot afterwards," said Lawrence.

" No. He was arranged, I tell you," was the reply, " and
he most assuredly had not arranged himself. Besides, he was
bareheaded. Does a man go about bareheaded in the after-
noon sun of the Sahara ? But to my mind the question
doesn't arise in view of the fact of that inexplicable
bayonet.

One bayonet more than there were soldiers and rifles !

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNETJF 37

No I ceased reconstructing the scene with .that one as
the slayer, and I had no reason to select anyone else for the
role. . . . Then I heard the bull voice of Sergeant Lebaudy,
down in the oasis, roar ' Formez les faisceaux ' and * Sac d terre,'
and came back to facts as the Sergeant-Ma j or approached and*
saluted.

* All in order, mon Commandant,' reported he, and fell to
eyeing the corpses.

' Even to half-smoked cigarettes in their mouths ! ' lie
whispered. * The fallen who were not allowed to fall the dead
forbidden to die. 9 Then ' But where in the name of God is
Jean the Trumpeter ? '

* Tell me that, Chef, and I will fill your kepi with twenty-
franc pieces and give you the Grand Cross of the Legion of
Honour/ said I.

The Sergeant-Ma j or blasphemed, crossed himself, and then
said, c Let us get out of here while we can.'

* Are you a Sergeant-Major or a young lady ? ' I enquired
and as one does, in such circumstances, rated him soundly for
feeling exactly as I did myself ; and the more I said, the more
angry and unreasonable I grew. You know how one's head
and one's nerves get, in that accursed desert, George."

" I know, old son," agreed Lawrence. " I have found
myself half-ready to murder a piccin, for dropping a plate."

" Yes -the best of us get really insane at times, in
that hellish heat and unnatural life. . . . But I got a hold
upon myself and felt ashamed for the good fellow took it
well.

' Did Your Excellency make a thorough search ? ' he
asked, rebukingly polite.

* But, Ay dear Chef, what need to make a thorough search
for a living man, a hale and hearty, healthy soldier, in a small
place into which he had been sent to open a gate ? Mon
Dieu ! he has legs ! He has a tongue in his head ! If he were
here, wouldn't he be here ? ' I asked.

* Murdered perhaps/ was the reply.

' By whom ? Beetles ? Lizards ? ' I sneered.
He shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to the sous-officier
with a dramatic gesture.

38 BEAU GESTB

That one 'had not been murdered by beetles or lizards !

' Yes/ said I. ' Now we'll reconstruct this crime, first
reading what is on this paper,' and I opened the stiffened
fingers and took it. There was a dirty crumpled torn envelope
'there, too. Now Georges, man vieux, prepare yourself. You
are going to show a little emotion, my frozen Englishman ! "

Lawrence smiled faintly.

" It was a most extraordinary document," continued
de Beaujolais. "I'll show it to you when we get on board the
ship. It was something like this : On the envelope was,
' To tJie Chief of Police of Scotland Yard and all whom it may
concern. 9 And on the paper, ' Confession. Important. Urgent.
Please publish.

For fear that any innocent person may be suspected, I hereby
fully and freely confess that it was 7, and I alone, who stole the
great sapphire known as 'Blue Water* " . . .

" What ! " shouted George Lawrence, jumping up.
" What ? What are you saying, de Beaujolais ? "

" Aha ! my little George," smiled the Frenchman, gloating.
" And where is the phlegme Britannique now, may I ask ?
That made you sit up, quite literally, didn't it ? We do not
yawn now, my little George, do we ? "

George Lawrence stared at his friend, incredulous, open-
mouthed.

" But that is Lady Brandon' s jewel / . . . What on earth . . ."
stammered Lawrence, sitting down heavily. " Are you
romancing, de Beaujolais ? Being funny ? "

" I am telling you what was written on this paper which
I will show you when I can get at my dispatch-case, my
friend," was the reply.

" Good God, man ! Lady Brandon / . . . Do yoA mean to
say that the * Blue Water ' has been pinched and that the
thief took refuge in the Foreign Legion, or drifted there
somehow ? " asked Lawrence, lying back on his roll of
bedding.

" I don't mean to say anything except to tell my little
tale, the dull little tale that has bored you so, my George,"
replied de Beaujolais, with a malicious grin.

George Lawrence swung his feet to the ground and stood

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 39

up again. Never had his friend seen this reserved, taciturn,
and unemotional man so affected.

" I don't get you. I don't take it in," he said. " Lady
Brandon's stone ! Our Lady Brandon ? The ' Blue Water '
that we used to be allowed to look at sometimes ? Stolen ! . . .'
And you have found it ? " . . .

" I have found nothing, my friend, but a crumpled and
bloodstained piece of paper in a dead man's hand,' 1 was the
reply.

" With Lfady Brandon's name on it ! It's absurd, man. . . .
In the middle of the Sahara ! And you found it. ... With
her name on it ! . . . Well, I'm absolutely damned ! " ejacu-
lated Lawrence.

" Yes, my friend. And perhaps you begin to realise how
' absolutely damned ' I was, when I read that paper sticky
with blood. But probably I was not as surprised as you are
now. Even that could not have surprised mo very much
then, I think," said de Beaujolais.

Lawrence sat down.

" Go on, old chap," he begged. " I sincerely apologise for
my recent manners. Please tell me everything, and then let
us thrash it out. . . . Lady Brandon ! . . . The * Blue
Water ' stolen ! " . . .

" No need for apologies, my dear George," smiled his friend.
" If you seemed a little unimpressed and bored at times, it
only gave me the greater zest for the denouement, when you
should hear your . . . our . . . friend's name come into this
extraordinary story."

" You're a wily and patient old devil, Jolly," said the
astounded Lawrence. " I salute you, Sir. A logical old cuss,
too ! Fancy keeping iJiat back until now, and telling the yarn
neatly, in proper sequence and due order, until the right point
in the story was reached, and then . . ."

" Aha ! the phlegme Britannique, eh, George ! " chuckled
de Beaujolais. " Wonderful how the volatile and impetuous
Frenchman could do it, wasn't it ? And there is something
else to come, my friend. All in * logical proper sequence and
due order ' there comes another little surprise."

" Then, for God's sake get on with it, old chap ! . . . More

40 BEAU GESTB

about Lady Brandon, is it ? " replied Lawrence, now all
animation and interest.

" Indirectly, mon cher Georges. For that paper was signed
by whom ? " asked the Frenchman, leaning forward, tapping
his friend's knee, staring impressively with narrowed eyes into
those of that bewildered gentleman.

And into the ensuing silence he slowly and deliberately
dropped the words, " By Michael Geste ! "

Lawrence raised himself on his elbow and stared at his
friend incredulous.

" By Michael Geste ! Her nephew ! You don't mean to tell
me that Michael Geste stole her sapphire and slunk off to the
Legion ? * Beau ' Geste ! Get out . . ." he said, and fell back.

" I don't mean to tell you anything, my friend, except that
the paper was signed * Michael Geste. 1 "

" Was the bareheaded man he ? Look here, are you pull-
ing my leg ? "

" I do not know who the man was, George. And I am not
pulling your log. I saw two or three boys and two so beautiful
girls, once, at Brandon \bbas, years ago. This man might
have been one of them. The ago would be about right. And
then, again, this man may have had nothing on earth to do
with the paper. Nor any other man on that roof, except the
sous-officier and he most certainly was not Michael Geste.
He was a man of forty or forty-five years, and as I have said,
no Englishman."

" Michael would be about twenty or so," said Lawrence.
" He was the oldest of the nephews. . . . But, my dear Jolly,
the Gestes don't steal / They are her nephews. ... I am
going to put some ice on my head."

" I have wanted a lot of ice to the head, the last &w weeks,
George. What, too, of the murdered sous-officier and the
utterly vanished trumpeter ? '*

" Oh, damn your trumpeter and sous-officier" was the
explosive reply. " Michael Geste ! . . . Lady Brandon. . . .
Forgive me, old chap, and finish the story . . ." and George
Lawrence lay back on his couch and stared at the roof of the
carriage.

Lady Brandon 1 The only woman in the world.

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 41

7.

And as the train rumbled on through the sweltering coast-
lands toward Lagos, Major de Beaujolais, highly pleased with
the success of his neat and clever little coup, continued hia
story.

" Well, my George, figure me there, with this new astound-
ment, this extraordinary accompaniment to the sinister and
bewildering mystery of an inexplicable murder and an inex-
plicable disappearance. . . .

And then, * What is in the paper, might one respectfully
enquire, mon Commandant,' asked the Sergeant-Ma j or.

' The confession of a thief that he stole a famous jewel,'
I replied.

' Which was the thief ? ' said he.

' Oh, ask me some questions, my good imbecile I ' said I.
Ask me where the trumpeter is, and whose is this bayonet,
and who disposed these dead men as defenders, and who fired
two shots, an$ whether I am mad or dreaming,' I answered
and then pulled myself together. ' Now come with me/ I
bade him. ' We will make one more search below, and then
dejeuner, and a quiet, sensible, reasonable discussion of the
facts, before we bury these brave fellows, detail an escouade
of our men as garrison, and return to Tokotu. I shall leave
you in command here until we get orders and reliefs.'

The Sergeant-Major looked distinctly dubious at this.
' Here for weeks ! ' he said softly.

We made our tour below, and, as before, nothing unusual
met the eye, and there was no sign of the trumpeter, alive or
dead. We had seen him climb on to that parapet and ap-
parently JK> living eye had beheld him again.

I was past wonder. I accepted things.

Very well, this was a place where Commandants are mur-
dered by non-existent people ; soldiers vanish like a whiff of
smoke ; and English letters concerning one's friends are
found in the hands of dead Frenchmen. Very good. Be it so.
We would ' carry on ' as you say, and do our duty.

1 Think hard and be prepared to pick holes in the theories
I shall propound an hour hence/ said I to the Sergeant-Major,
2*

42 BEAU GESTE

as we passed out of the gate, and I proceeded to the oasia
where my excellent Achmet had prepared my soup and
coffee. . . .

You do not want to hear my theories, George, and there
was no need for the Sergeant-Major to point out the impossi-
bilities and absurdities in them. They leapt to the eye
immediately.

It all came back to the bald facts that there must be a
soldier of the garrison missing, that he must have taken his
rifle and left his bayonet in the sous-qfficier, instead of shooting
him and awaiting praise and reward ; that my trumpeter had
vanished ; that the dead sous-officier had been in possession
of a confession, real or bogus, to the effect that Michael Geste
had stolen his aunt's famous sapphire.

There it was and nothing but lunacy could result from
theory-making about the sous-officier 's murder, the trum-
peter's disappearance, or Michael Geste's confession and how
it got there.

No you do not want to hear those perfectly futile theories
those explanations that explained nothing. But it may
interest you to hear that I was faced that evening, on top of
the rest of my little pleasures, with a military mutiny."

" Good Lord ! " ejaculated Lawrence, turning to the
speaker.

" Yes. At four o'clock I ordered the Sergeant-Major to
fall the men in, and I would tell oil the new garrison for
Zinderneuf.

In a most unusual manner the Sergeant-Major hung fire,
so to speak, instead of stepping smartly ofi about his duty.

' Well ? ' said I sharply.

' Therfc is going to be trouble, wow Commandant,' he fal-
tered.

* Mon Dieu y there is ! ' I snapped, ' and / am going to
make it, if I have any nonsense. What do you mean ? '

' Sergeant Lebaudy says that Corporal Brille says that the
men say . . .'

' Name of the Name of the Name of Ten Thousand Thunder-
ing Tin Devils/ I shouted. . . . ' You say that he says that
they say that she says,' I mocked. ' Va t'en, grand babbilard ! '

STKANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 43

I roared at him. ' Fll be on parade outside tho.se gates in
ten seconds, and if you and your gibbering chatterboxes are
not awaiting me there at attention . . .' and my poor
Sergeant-Major fled.

I was the more angry at his news, for I had subconsciously
expected something of the sort.

What else, with these ignorant, superstitious clods, who
were the bravest of the brave against human foes ? None
like them. Every man a hero in battle. . . . But what of
that House' of Death with its Watchers? That place into
which their comrade had boldly climbed and never come
forth again.

Rastignac had begun it. And they had seen him face
instant death rather than enter it Rastignac, the fearless
reckless devil, whose bravery alone had prevented his escapades
from bringing him to a court-martial and the Zephyrs. He, of
all men, was afraid of the place. There is nothing so infectious
as that sort of panic. . . .

Well ! One more fact to accept.

If the men would not enter the fort of Zinderneuf, they
would not enter the fort of Zinderneuf and that was that.

But if the will of these scoundrels was coming into conflict
with the will of Henri de Beaujolais, there were exciting
times ahead. Since they sought sorrow they should certainly
find it and as I put on my belt and boots again, I felt a
certain elation.

' Action is always action, mon Henri,' said I to myself,
* and it will be a change from these thrice-accursed theories
and attempts to explain the inexplicable and reconcile the
irreconcilable.'

Bah ! [ would teach my little dogs to show their teeth,
and I rode, on a mule, over to the fort. There I bade Dufour
and Lebaudy select an escouade of the worst men, all
mauvais sujcts of that Company. They should garrison either
Zinderneuf fort, or else the grave that had been dug for those
brave ' fallen who had not been allowed to fall.' . . .

As I rode up, the Sergeant-Major Dufour called the men to
attention, and they stood like graven images, the selected
escouade on the right, while I made an eloquent speech, the

44 BEAU GESTE

funeral oration of that brave band to whom we were about to
give a military funeral with all the last honours that France
could render to the worthy defenders of her honour and her
Flag.

Tears stood in my eyes and my voice broke as I concluded
by quoting :

* Soldats de la Lfgion^

De la Legion ^trang^re^

N'ayant pas de nation,

La France est votrt mdrc*

Then, when the selected new garrison got the order, * Par
files de quatre. En avant. Marche' that they might march
into the fort and begin their new duties by bringing the dead
out for burial they did something quite otherwise.

Taking the time from the right, with smartness and pre-
cision they stooped as one man, laid their rifles on the ground,
rose as one man and stood at attention !

The right-hand man, a grizzled veteran of Madagascar,
Tonquin, and Dahomey, took a pace forward, saluted, and
with wooden face, said, ' We prefer to die with Rastignac.'

This was flat disobedience and rank mutiny. I had hardly
expected quite this.

' But Rastignac is not going to die. He is going to live
long years, I hope in the Joyeux. You, however, who are but
cowardly sheep, led astray by him, shall have the better fate.
You shall die now, or enter Zinderneuf fort and do your duty.
. . . Sergeant-Ma j or, have those rifles collected. Let the
remainder of the Company right form, and on the order
'Attention pour les feux de salve' the front rank will kneel,
and on the order, " Feu" every man will do his duty/

But I knew better, George. That was precisely what they
wouldn't do ; and I felt that this was my last parade. That
accursed fort was still exerting its horrible influence. These
fools feared that it would kill them if they entered it, and I
feared it would kill them if they did not. For let me but
handle them wrongly now, and they would shoot me and the
non-commissioned officers and march off into the desert to
certain death, as they weakened from thirst and starvation.
They would be harried and hunted and herded along by the

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 45

Arabs, and daily reduced in numbers until a sudden rush
swept over them and nothing remained for the survivors but
horrible tortures.

Mutinous dogs they might be, and fools they were but
no less would the responsibility for their sufferings and deaths
be mine if I mishandled the situation. I thought of other
desert-mutinies in the Legion.

It was an awkward dilemma, George. If I ordered the
Company to fire upon the squad, they would refuse and would
thereby became mutineers themselves. They would then feel
that they might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and,
having shot me, take their chance of escape and freedom.

If, on the other hand, I condoned this refusal of the escouade
what of military discipline ? Duty to my country came
before my duty to these fellows, and I must not allow any pity
for their probable fate to come between me and my duty
as a French officer.

I decided that if they would die, then die they must but
I at least could do my best to save them. Without deviating
from the path of duty, I would hold out a hand to them.

If the escouade would not enter the fort they must expiate
their military crime. If the company would not carry out
my orders and fire on the mutineers, they must expiate their
crime.

If I were to be shot, I should at least be saved the un-
pleasantness of reporting that my men had mutinied, and I
should die in the knowledge that I had done my duty.

Yes I would make it clear that disobedience to my orders
would be death. Swift and sudden for some, lingering and
horrible for many, sure and certain for all. Then I would
' carry on*' as you say. Was I right, George ? "

" I think you were quite right, Jolly," agreed Lawrence.

" As I was deciding thus, all in the space of a few seconds,
with every eye upon me and a terrible tension drawing every
face," continued de Beaujolais, " the Sergeant-Major ap-
proached and saluted. I eyed him coldly. With his back to
the men, he whispered :

' They won't do it, mon Commandant. For God's sake do not
give the order. They are rotten with cafard and over-fatigue.

46 BEAU GESTE

That Rastignac is their hero and leader. They will shoot you
and desert en masse. ... A night's rest will work wonders.
. . . Besides, Lieutenant St. Andre" and the Senegalese will
be here by midnight. It is full moon to-night.'

' And shall we sit and wait for the Senegalese, Dufour ? *
I whispered back. ' Would you like to ask these fellows to
spare us till they come ? '

And looking from him to the men I said loudly :

* You are too merciful, Sergeant-Major. We don't do things
thus in the Spahis. But these are not Spain's. However, in
consideration of the most excellent march the men have
made, I will do as you beg and give these ca/ard-stricken fools
till moon-rise. It gives me no pleasure to inflict punishment,
and I hope no man will insist on being punished. We are all
tired, and since you intercede for your men I grant a four-
hour holiday. At moon-rise, our motto is " Work or die."
Till then, all may rest. After then, the dead will be buried
and the fort garrisoned. I hope there will be no more dead to
be buried to-night/

And I rode back to the oasis, hearing as I did so the voice
of the Sergeant-Ma] or, exhorting the men and 'concluding
with the order, ' Rompez.'

He joined me a few minutes later.

' They'll never do it, mon Commandant,' said he. ' They'll
fear the place worse than ever by moonlight. In the morning
we could call for volunteers to accompany us. And then the
Senegalese . . .'

* That will do, Dufour/ said I. * They will render instant
obedience at moon-rise, or take the consequences. I have
strained my military conscience already to satisfy my private
conscience. If, after four hours' rest and reflection? they still
decide to mutiny on their heads be it ! No responsibility
rests on me. If they mutiny, they do it in cold blood. If they
obey orders before the Senegalese arrive, no great harm has
been done, and discipline has been maintained. That is the
very utmost length to which I can go in my desire to save
them.'

' To save them, mon Commandant ! It is you I am trying to
save/ stammered the good fellow.

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 47

Patting him on the shoulder as he turned to go, I bade him
Bend me a couple of the most influential men of the escouade
and two or three of the best of the remainder leaders of
different cliques, if there were any.

I would point out to them the inevitable and awful results
to the men themselves, of disobedience and mutiny. I would
speak of the heroism, discipline, and dutifulness of the dead.
I would point out to them that in the event of mutiny, they
themselves would either be loyal and die at the hands of the
mutineers, or become deserters and die at the hands of the
Arabs. I would then send them back among their fellows
and abide the issue. . . .

It was while I awaited their arrival that I wished our army
more resembled yours in one particular the relationship
between officers and men. Our fellows get too much non-
commissioned officer and too little officer. We are too remote
from them. We do not play games with them, get to know
them, interest ourselves in them as fellow human beings, iu
the way that your officers do. Too often it is a case with ua
of hated non-coms, and stranger-officers. Particularly is this
so in the Legion. The non-coms, are all-powerful and tyranni-
cal ; the officers are utterly uninterested in the men as
individuals, and do not even know their names.

And I was not one of their own officers of the Legion. I
was a Spahi officer, superintending the organising of mule-
cavalry out of infantry ; or rather, making ordinary infantry
into mounted infantry, that the Legion might hope to com-
pete with the Touaregs in mobility. We wanted mounted
riflemen down there just as you did in the Boer War, or else
the Arabs served us as the Boers did you at first.

I certainly had not been unduly harsh or oppressive during
the time I had been with this particular lot ; but, on the
other hand, I certainly had no personal influence with them.
I did not know them, nor they me, and all our lives seemed
likely to be forfeit in consequence. . . .

However, 1 talked to the men whom Dufour brought, and
did my best under the heavy handicap of not BO much as
knowing their names. Finally, I dismissed them with the
words :

48 BEAU GESTE

' For your lives, influence your friends wisely and well, and
get it into their heads that at moon-rise we will have obedience
with honour and safety, or disobedience with dishonour,
misery, and death. For at moon-rise, the chosen escouade
will enter the fort and bring out the dead, or the company
will fire upon them. . . . Au 'voir, mes enfants.'

Of course, I knew the danger of making any reference to
what would happen if the company refused to fire on the
escouade but it was foolish to pretend to ignore the possi-
bility of such a thing. But I made no allusion to the Sene-
galese, and the coercion or punishment of white men by black.

It might be that the company would obey orders, if the
escouade remained mutinous, and it might be that all would
reflect upon the coming of the Senegalese.

Anyhow, I was on a knife-edge, and all depended upon
the ( ll'ect on these rascals of a four-hour rest and the words
of the men to whom I had talked. There was just a chance
that St. Andre" and his Senegalese might arrive in time to
influence the course of affairs but I most certainly could not
bring myself to postpone the issue until his arrival, and then
take shelter behind the blacks. With the full moon well up
in the sky by its beautiful soft light we should see what
we should see ...

And then, just as the men turned to go, I had an idea.
Suppose some of them would volunteer to go over the fort
with me ; see for themselves that there was nothing to be
afraid of ; and then report to their fellows that all was well.

Their statement and the inevitable airs of superiority which
they would give themselves, might well counteract Has-
tignac's influence and their superstitious fears. If some of
these men, selected for character and influence, #ent back
in the spirit of, ' Well, cowards, we have been in there and it
is much the same as any other such cursed hole except that
somebody had a great idea for diddling the Arabs/ the others
would probably take the line, * Well, where you can go, we
can. Who are you to swagger ? '

Yes- I would try it. Not as though I were really per-
suading or beseeching, and anxious to prove that the escouade
jhad nothing to fear if sent to garrison the place. No

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUP 49

merely as offering them, superior soldiers, an opportunity of
seeing the fort before its remarkable dispositions were dis-
turbed.

' Wait a moment,' said I, as they saluted and turned to go,
1 Is there a man of courage among you a man, par exemple
such as the trumpeter, brave enough to enter an empty fort
with me ? '

They looked sheepish for a moment. Someone murmured,
' And where is Jean the Trumpeter ? ' and then I heard a
curious whispered remark :

1 Oee ! I sure would like to see a ghost, Buddy, 9 and the
whispered reply :

4 Sure thing, Hank, and I'd like to see ole Brown some more. 9

Two men stepped forward as one, and saluted.

They were in extraordinary contrast in body, and some
similarity in face, for one was a giant and the other not more
than five feet in height, while both had clean-shaven leathery
countenances, somewhat of the bold Red Indian type.

You know what I mean lean hatchet faces, biggish noses,
mouths like a straight gash, and big chins. By their grey
eyes they were Northerners, and by their speech Americans.

' You would like to see the fort and how it was manned to
the last by heroes victorious in death ? ' I asked.

* Oui, mon Commandant, 1 they replied together.

' Isn't there a Frenchman among you ? ' I asked the rest.

Another man, a big sturdy Gascon he looked, saluted and
joined the Americans. Then what they now call * the herd
instinct ' and ' mob-psychology ' came into play, and the
others did the same.

Good I I had got the lot. I would take them round the
fort as though doing honour to the dead and showing them
as an example and then I suddenly remembered . . ."

" The murdered sous-officier" said George Lawrence.

" Exactly, George 1 These fellows must not see him lying
there with a French bayonet through him 1 I must go in
first, alone, and give myself the pleasant task of removing the
bayonet. I would cover his face, and it would be assumed
that he had been shot and had fallen where he lay* Yes,
that was it. ...

60 BEAU GESTE

1 Good ! You shall come with me then,' said I, ' and have
the privilege of treading holy ground and seeing a sight of
which to talk to your grandchildren when you are old men.
You can also tell your comrades of what you have seen, and
give them a fresh pride in their glorious Regiment/ and I
bade the Sergeant-Major march them over to the fort.

Mounting my mule, which had not been unsaddled, I rode
quickly across to the gate. The sentry had been withdrawn.

Dismounting, I hurried up to the roof, to perform the dis-
tasteful duty I could not very well have delegated to the
Sergeant-Major. I emerged from the darkness of the stair-
case on to the roof.

And there I stood and stared and stared and rubbed my
eyes and then for a moment felt just a little faint and just
a little in sympathy with those poor superstitious fools of the
escouade. . . . For, my dear George, the body of the sous-
officier was no longer there / Nor was that of the bareheaded
recumbent man ! "

" Good God 1 " ejaculated Lawrence, raising himself on
his elbow and turning to de Beaujolais.

" Yes, that is what I said," continued the other. " What
else was there to say ? Were there djinns, af rites, evil spirits
in this cursed desert, even as the inhabitants declared ? Was
the whole thing a nightmare 1 Had I dreamt that the body
of a French sous-ojjlcier had lain here, with a French bayonet
through it ? Or was I dreaming now ?

And then I think my temperature went up two or three
degrees from the mere hundred and two that one disregards ;
for I remember entertaining the wild idea that perhaps a
living man was shamming dead among these corpses. More-
over, I remember going round from corpse to corpse and
questioning them. One or two that seemed extra lifelike
I took by the arm, and as I shouted at them, I shook them
and pulled at them until they fell to the ground, their rifles
clattering down with them.

Suddenly I heard the feet of men upon the stair, and
pulled myself together. The Sergeant-Major and the half-
dozen or so of legionaries came out on to the roof.

I managed to make my little speech as they stared round

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 61

in amazement, the most amazed of all being the* Sergeant-
Ma j or, who gazed at the smeared pool of blood where the body
of the sous-officicr had lain.

The two Americans seemed particularly interested, and
appeared to be looking for comrades among the dead.

When would one of the men salute and ask respectfully the
first of the hundred questions that must be puzzling them :
1 Where is their officer ? '

And what should I reply t They could see for themselves
that the Arabs had not entered and carried him off. Perhaps
their minds were too full of the question : ' Where is Jean
the Trumpeter ? ' for the other question to formulate itself.

I had made no reference to the disappearance of th trum-
peter ; but I knew that they had seen him enter the fort
and had waited, as I did, for an astounding quarter of an
hour, to see him come out again. They had watched me go
in alone, at the end of that time, and had seen me emerge
alone. What could I say ?

It seemed to me to be best to say nothing on that subject,
*o I said it.

After a few minutes that seemed like a few hours, I bade
Dufour take the men round the outbuildings, and then march
them back to the oasis.

As he disappeared, last, down the stair, I called him back
and we were alone together. Simultaneously we said the sani6
words : ' Did you move it ? ' and each of us knew that the
other knew nothing about it !

I laughed loudly, if not merrily, and the Sergeant-Major
produced the oath of a lifetime ; in length and originality,
remarkable^ even for the Legion.

' Quite so, Chef, 9 said I. . . . ' Life grows a little com-
plicated.'

' I'll give a complicated death to ibis farceur , when I find . . .*
growled he as I motioned him to be off. ' Blood of the devil,
I will I '

He clattered down the stairs, and, soon after, I heard hia
voice below, as he led the group of men across the courtyard.

' Not much here to terrify the great Rastignac, hein f *
he jeered.

B2 BEAU GESTE

9 But there is certainly something here to terrify me, my
friend,' I observed to myself, and made my way back to my
mule and the oasis. ... In fact, I fled. . . .

Well, George, mon vieux, what do you think happened ?
Did the escouade obey and enter the fort like lambs, or did they
refuse and successfully defy me, secure in the knowledge that
the others would not fire on them ? "

" You are alive to tell the tale, Jolly," was the reply.
" That's the main thing."

" On account of the importance of a part of it to you, my
George, eh ? " smiled the Frenchman.

"Oh, not at all, old chap," Lawrence hastened to say, with
a somewhat guilty smile. " Simply on account of the fact
that you are spared to France and to your friends."

" I thank you, my little George. Almost might you be a
Frenchman," said de Beaujolais, with an ironical bow. " But
tell me, what do you think happened ? Did they obey and
enter, or did they refuse ? "

" Give it up, Jolly. I can only feel sure that one of the
two happened," replied Lawrence.

" And that is where you are wrong, my friend, for neither
happened," continued de Beaujolais. " They neither obeyed
and entered, nor disobeyed and stayed out ! "

" Good Lord ! " ejaculated Lawrence. " What then ? "

And this time it was the Frenchman who suggested a little
refreshment.

8.

" Well, this is the last ' event ' on that remarkable pro-
gramme, mon cher Georges," resumed de Beaujolais a little
later. " A very appropriate and suitable one to&. . . . ' A
delightful open-air entertainment concluded with fireworks, as
the reporters of fetes champetres say."

" Fireworks ? Rifle-fire works do you mean ? " asked
Lawrence.

" No, my George, nothing to speak of. Just fireworks.
Works of fire. ... I will tell you. . . .

I let the moon get well up, and then sent my servant,
Achniet, for the Sergeant-Major, and bade that good fellow

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 53

to parade the men as before, with the fort a hundred paces in
their rear, the garrison escouade on the right of the line.

This party would either march into the fort or not. If not
then the remainder would be ordered to right-form and shoot
them where they stood, for disobedience in the field, practi-
cally in the presence of the enemy.

The remainder would either obey or not. If not then I
would at once give the order to * pile arms.' If they did this,
as they might, from force of habit, they would immediately
be marched :> to the oasis and would be f arrested ' by the
non-commissioned officers and marched back to Tokotu,
under escort of the Senegalese, to await court martial. If
they did not pile arms, the non-commissioned officers were to
come at once to me, and we would prepare to sell our lives
dearly for the men would mutiny and desert. Possibly a
few of the men would join us, and there was a ghost of a chance
that we might fight our way into the fort and hold it, but it
was infinitely more probable that we should be riddled where
we stood.

< Bien, mon Commandant,' said Dufour, as he saluted, and
then, hesitatingly, * Might I presume to make a request and
a suggestion. May I stand by you, and Rastignac stand by
me with the muzzle of my revolver against his liver it
being clear that, at the slightest threat to you, Rastignac's
digestion is impaired ? If he knows that just this will happen,
he also may give good advice to his friends. . . .'

* Nothing of the sort, Dufour,' I replied. * Everything will
proceed normally and properly, until the men themselves
behave abnormally and improperly. We shall lead and com-
mand soldiers of France until we have to fight and kill, or be
killed by, Mutineers against the officers of France in the
execution of their duty. Proceed/

Would you have said the same, George ? It seemed to
me that this idea of the Sergeant-Major's was not much better
than that of waiting for the Senegalese. Would you have
done the same in my place ? "

" 1 can only hope I should have had the courage to act as
bravely and as wisely as you did, Jolly," was the reply.

"Oh, I am no hero, my friend," smiled do Beaujolais,

64 BEAU GESTE

" but it seemed the right thing to do. I had not in any way
provoked a mutiny indeed, I had stretched a point to avert
it and it was my business to go straight ahead, do my duty,
and abide the result.

But it was with an anxious heart that I mounted the mule
again and cantered over to the fort.

I had thought of going on a camel, for, it is a strange
psychological fact, that if your hearers have to look up to you
physically, they also have to look up to you metaphysically
as it were. If a leader speaks with more authority from a
mule than from the ground, and with more weight and power
from a horse than from a mule, would he not speak with still
more from a camel ?

Perhaps but I felt that I could do more, somehow, in case
of trouble, if I could dash at assailants with sword and re-
volver. I am a cavalry man and the arme blanche is my
weapon. Cold steel and cut and thrust, for me, if I had to
go down fighting. You can't charge and use your sword on
a camel, so I compromised on the mule but how I longed
for my Arab charger and a few of my Spahis behind me ! It
would be a fight then, instead of a murder. . . .

It was a weird and not unimpressive scene. That sinister
fort, silver and black ; the frozen waves of the ocean of sand,
an illimitable silver sea ; the oasis a big, dark island upon
it ; the men, statues, inscrutable and still.

What would they do ? Would my next words be my last ?
Would a double line of rifles rise and level themselves at my
breast, or would that escouade, upon whom everything
depended, move ofi like a machine and enter the fort ?

As I faced the men, I was acutely interested, and yet felt
like a spectator, impersonal and unafraid. I was about to
witness a thrilling drama, depicting the fate of one Henri de
Beaujolais, quite probably his death. I hoped he would play
a worthy part on this moonlit stage. I hoped that, even more
than I hoped to see him survive the play. I was calm. I
was detached. . . ."

George Lawrence sighed and struck a match.

" I cast one more look at the glorious moon and took a
deep breath. If this was my last order on parade, it should

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 15

be worthily given, in a voice deep, clear, and firm. Above
all firm. And as my mouth opened, and my lower jaw moved
in the act of speech I believe it dropped, George, and my
mouth remained open.

For, from that enigmatical, brooding, fatal fort there
shot up a tongue of flame !

' Mon Dieu t Regardez ! ' cried the Sergeant-Major, and
pointed. I believe every head turned, and in the perfect
silence I heard him whisper, ' Spirits, ghosts, devils ! *

That brought me to myself sharply. ' Yes, imbecile 1 '
I said. ' They carry matches and indulge in arson 1 Quite
noted incendiaries I Where is Rastignac ? '

I asked that because it was perfectly obvious that someone
was in the fort and had set fire to something highly inflam-
mable. I had been in the place an hour or two before. There
was certainly no sign of fire then, and this was a sudden rash
of flame.

As I watched, another column of smoke and fire burst forth
in a different place.

' He is tied up back there, man Commandant, 9 replied
Dufour.

' The forbidden crapaudine ? ' I asked.

' I told Corporal Brille to tie him to a tree/ was the reply.

Anyhow it could not be Rastignac's work, for he would not
have entered the place, even had he been left at liberty and
had an opportunity to do so.

' Send and see if he is still there and make sure that
everyone else is accounted for/ I ordered.

It was useless to detail a pompier squad to put the fire out.
We don't have hose and hydrants in the desert, as you know.
When a place burns, it burns. And, mon Dieu, how it burns
in the dry heat of that rainless desert ! The place would be
gone, even if the men would enter it, by the time we had
got our teaspoonfuls of water from the oasis. And, to tell
you the truth, I did not care how soon, or how completely it
did go !

This fire would be the funeral pyre of those brave men. It
would keep my fools from their suicidal mutiny. It would
purge the place of mystery. Incidentally it would save my

58 BEAU GESTE

life and military reputation, and the new fort that would
arise in its place would not be the haunted, hated prison that
this place would henceforth have been for those who had to
garrison it.

I gave the order to face about, and then to stand at ease.
The men should watch it burn, since nothing could be done
to save it. Perhaps even they would realise that human
agency is required for setting a building on fire and, more-
over, whoever was in there had got to come out or be cre-
mated. They should see him come. . . . But who ? Who ?
The words Who ? and Why ? filled my mind. . . .

All stood absolutely silent, spellbound.

Suddenly the spell was broken and back we came to earth,
at an old familiar sound.

A rifle cracked, again and again. From the sound the firing
was towards us.

The Arabs were upon us !

Far to the right and to the left, more shots were fired.

The fort blazing and the Arabs upon us !

Bullets whistled overhead and I saw one or two flashes
from a distant sand-hill.

No one was hit, the fort being between us and the enemy.
In less time than it takes to tell I had the men turned about
and making for the oasis au pas gymnastique * at the
double/ as you call it. There we should have cover and
water, and if we could only hold the devils until they were
nicely between us and St. Andre's Senegalese, we would avenge
the garrison of that blazing fort.

They are grand soldiers, those Legionnaires, George. No
better troops in our army. They are to other infantry what
my Spaliis are to other cavalry. It warmed onerfs heart to
see them double, steady as on parade, back to the darkness
of the oasis, every man select his cover and go to ground,
his rifle loaded and levelled as he did so.

Our camel vedettes rode in soon after. Two of them had
had a desperate fight, and two of them had seen rifle-flashes
and fired at them, before returning tj the oasis, thinking the
Arabs had rushed the fort and burnt it.

In a few minutes from the first burst of fire, the whole place

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 57

was still, silent, and apparently deserted. Nothing for an
enemy to see but a burning fort, and a black brooding oasis,
where nothing moved.

How I hoped they would swarm yelling round the fort,
thinking to get us like bolted rabbits as we rushed out of it !
It is not like the Arabs to make a night attrck, but doubtless
they had been hovering near, and the fire had brought them
down on us.

Had they seen us outside the fort ? If so, they would
attack the oasis in the morning. If they had not seen us,
anything might happen, and the oasis prove a guet-apens, with
the burning or burnt-out fort as the bait of the trap.

What were they doing now ? The firing had ceased entirely.
Probably making their dispositions to rush us suddenly at
dawn, from behind the nearest sand-hills. Their game would
be to lull us into a sense of security throughout a peaceful
night and come down upon us at daybreak, like a whirlwind,
as we slept.

And what if our waiting rifles caught them at fifty yards,
and the survivors turned to flee on to the muzzles of those
of the Senegalese ? . . .

It was another impressive scene in that weird drama,
George. A big fire, by moonlight, in the heart of the Sahara,
a fire watched by silent, motionless men, breathlessly awaiting
the arrival of other players on the stage.

After gazing into the moonlit distance until my eyes ached,
expecting to see a great band of the blue- veiled mysterious
Silent Ones suddenly swarm over a range of sand-hills, I
bethought me of getting into communication with St. Andre*.

I had ordered him to follow by a forced march, leaving a
suitable garrison at Tokotu, when I dashed off with the
4 always ready ' emergency-detachment on camels, preceding
by an hour or so the ' support ' emergency-detachment on
mules, with water, rations, and ammunition.

These two detachments are more than twice as fast as the
best infantry, but I reckoned that St. Andre would soon be
drawing near.

It was quite possible that he might run into the Arabs,
while the latter were watching the oasis if they had seen us

68 BEAU OESTE

enter it,* or their skirmishers established the fact of our
presence.

So far, we had not fired a shot from the oasis, and it was
possible that our presence was unsuspected.

This might, or might not, be the same band that had
attacked the place. If they were the same, they might be
hanging about in the hope of ambushing a relieving force. If
St. Andr6 arrived while the fort was burning, they would
have no chance of catching him unawares. If he came after
the flames had died down, he might march Straight into a
trap. There would certainly be a Targui scout or two out in
the direction of Tokotu, while the main body did business
at Zinderneuf.

Anyhow, 1 must communicate with St. Andre" if possible.
It would be a good man that would undertake the job success-
fully for both skill and courage would be required. There
was the track to find and follow, and there were the Arabs to
face.

To lose the former was to die of thirst and starvation ; to
find the latter was to die of tortures indescribable.

On the whole it might be better to send two. Twice the
chance of rny message reaching St. Andre. Possibly more
than twice the chance, really, as two men are braver than one,
because they hearten each other.

I went round the oasis until I found the Sergeant-Ma j or,
who was going from man to man, prohibiting any firing with-
out orders, any smoking or the making of any noise. This
was quite sound and I commended him, and then asked for
a couple of men of the right stamp for my job.

I was not surprised when he suggested two of the men who
had been into the fort with me, and passed the Vord for the
two Americans. He recommended them as men who could
use the stars, good scouts, brave, resourceful, and very
determined.

They would, at any rate, stand a chance of getting through
the Arabs and giving St. Andre the information that would
turn him from their victim into their scourge, if we had any
luck.

When the big slow giant and the little quick man appeared

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 59

and silently saluted, I asked them if they would like to under-
take this duty. They were more than ready, and as I ex-
plained my plans for trapping the Arabs between two fires,
I found them of quick intelligence. Both were able to repeat
to me, with perfect lucidity, what I wanted them to say to
St. Andre, that he might be able to attack the attackers at
dawn, just when they were attacking me.

The two left the oasis on camels, from the side opposite to
the fort, and after they had disappeared over a sand-hill, you
may imagine ivith what anxiety I listened for firing. But
all was silent, and the silence of the grave prevailed until
morning.

After two or three hours of this unbroken, soundless still-
ness, the fire having died down in the fort, I felt perfectly
certain there would be no attack until dawn.

All who were not on the duty of outposts-by-night slept,
and I strolled silently round and round the oasis, waiting for
the first hint of sunrise and thinking over the incredible
events of that marvellous day certainly unique in my fairly
wide experience of hectic days.

I went over it all again from the moment when I first sighted
the accursed fort with its flag flying over its unsealed walls
and their dead defenders, to the moment when my eyes refused
to believe that the place was on fire and blazing merrily.

At length, leaning against the trunk of a palm tree and
longing for a cigarette and some hot coffee to help me keep
awake, I faced the east and watched for the paling of the stars.
As I did so, my mind grew clearer as my body grew weaker,
and I decided to decide that all this was the work of a mad-
man, concealed in the fort, and now burnt to death.

He had, for some reason, murdered the sous-ojficier with a
bayonet (certainly he must be mad or he would have shot
him) ; and he had, for some reason, silently killed the trum-
peter and hidden his body all in the few minutes that elapsed
before I followed the trumpeter in. (Had the murderer used
another bayonet for this silent job ?) He had for some reason
removed the sous-officier's, and the other man's, body and
concealed those too, and, finally, he had set fire to the fort
and perished in the flames.

60 BEAU GESTE

But where was he while I searched the place, and why had
he not killed me also when I entered the fort alone ?

The lunacy theory must account for these hopelessly
lunatic proceedings but it hardly accounts for the murdered
sous-qfficier having in his hand a confession signed, ' Michael
Geste/ to the effect that he had stolen a jewel, does it, my
old one ? "

" It does not, my son, and that, to me, is the most interest-
ing and remarkable fact in your most interesting and remark-
able story," replied Lawrence.

" Well, 1 decided, as I say, to leave it at that just the mad
doings of a madman, garnished by the weird coincidence of
the paper," continued de Beaujolais, " and soon afterwards
the sky grew grey in the east.

Before a rosy streak could herald the dawn we silently stood
to arms, and when the sun peeped over the horizon he beheld
St. Andre's Senegalese skirmishing beautifully towards us !

There wasn't so much as the smell of an Arab for miles. . . .
No, St. Andre had not seen a living thing not even the two
scouts I had sent out to meet him. Nor did anyone else ever
see those two brave fellows. I have often wondered what their
fate was Arabs or thirst. . . .

I soon learnt that one of St. Andrews mule-scouts had
ridden back to him, early in the night, to say that he had
heard rifle-shots in the direction of Zinderneuf. St. Andr6
had increased his pace, alternating the quick march and the
pas gymnast ique until he knew he must be near his goal. All
being then perfectly silent he decided to beware of an ambush,
to halt for the rest of the night, and to feel his way forward,
in attack formation, at dawn.

He had done well, and my one regret was tliut the Arabs
who had caused the destruction of Zinderneuf were not
between me and him as he closed upon the oasis.

While the weary troops rested, I told St. Andre* all that had
happened, and asked for a theory reserving mine about the
madman. He is a man with a brain, this St. Andre, ambitious
and a real soldier. Although he has private means, he serves
France where duty is hardest, and life least attractive. A
little dark pocket-Hercules of energy and force.

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 61

' What about this, Major 1 ' said he, when I had finished
my account, and, having fed, we were sitting, leaning our
weary backs against a fallen palm trunk, with coGee and
cigarettes at hand.

' Suppose your trumpeter killed the sous-ojficicr himself and
deserted there and then ? '

* Mon Dieu ! ' said I ; * that never occurred to me. But
why should he, and why use his bayonet and leave it in the
body ? '

' Well as to why he should,' replied St. Andr6, ' it might
have been revenge. This may have been the first time he
had ever been alone with the sous-qfficier, whom he may
have sworn to kill at the first opportunity. . . . Some fancied
or real injustice, when lie was under this man at Sidi-bel-
Abbes or elsewhere. The sight of his enemy, the sole sur-
vivor, alone, rejoicing in his hour of victory and triumph, may
have further maddened a brain already mad with cafard,
brooding, lust of vengeance, I know not what of desperation.*

' Possible/ I said, and thought over this idea. * But no,
impossible, my friend. Why had not the sous-afficier rushed
to the wall, or up to the look-out platform when I approached I
I fired my revolver six times to attract attention and let them
know that relief had come, and two answering rifle-shots were
fired ! Why was he not waving his kepi and shouting for joy 1
Why did he not rush down to the gates and throw them
open ? '

' Wounded and lying down/ suggested St. Andre.

' He was not wounded, my friend/ said I. ' He was killed.
That bayonet, and nothing else, had done his business/

' Asleep/ suggested the Lieutenant, ' absolutely worn out.
Sleeping like the dead and thus his enemy, the trumpeter,
found him, and drove the bayonet through his heart as he
slept. He was going to blow the sleeper's brains out, when he
remembered that the shot would be heard and would have
to be explained. Therefore he used the bayonet, drove it
through the man, and then, and not till then, he realised that
the bayonet would betray him. It would leap to the eye,
instantly, that murder had been committed and not by one
of the garrison. So he fled/

62 BEAU GESTE

* And the revolver, with one chamber fired ? ' I asked.

4 Oh fired during the battle, at some daring Arab who rode
round the fort, reconnoitring, and came suddenly into view. 1
4 And the paper in the left hand ? '
4 1 do not know.'

* And who fired the two welcoming shots 1
4 I do not know/

' 4 And how did the trumpeter vanish across the desert as
conspicuous as a negro's head on a pillow before the eyes of
my Company ? '

4 1 do not know/

4 Nor do I, 1 I said.

And then St. Andre* sat up suddenly.

4 M on Commandant ,' said he, * the trumpeter did not
escape, of course. He murdered the soiis-officier and then hid
himself. It was ho who removed the two bodies when he again
found himself alone in the fort. He may have had some idea
of removing the bayonet and turning the stab into a bullet-
wound. He then meant to return to tho Company with some
tale of cock and bull. But remembering that you had already
seen the body, and might have noticed the bayonet, he
determined to set fire to the fort, burn all evidence, and re-
join in tho confusion caused by the fire.

He could swear that he had been knocked on the head from
behind, and only recovered consciousness in time to escape
from the flames kindled by whoever it was who clubbed him.
This is all feasible and if improbable it is no more improbable
than the actual facts of the case, is it ? *

* Quite so, mon Lieutenant,' I agreed. ' And why did he
not rejoin in the confusion, with his tale of cock and bull ? '

' Well hero's a theory. Suppose the sous-o^icier did shoot
at him with the revolver and wounded him so severely that
by the time he had completed his little job of arson he was
too weak to walk. He fainted from loss of blood and perished
miserably in the flames that he himself had kindled. Truly
a splendid example of poetic justice/

4 Magnificent/ I agreed. * The Greek Irony, in effect.
Hoist by his own petard. Victim of the mocking Fates, and
so forth. The only flaw in the beautiful theory is that toe

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 63

should have heard the shot just as we should have heard a
rifle-shot had the trumpeter used his rifle for the murder. In
that brooding heavy silence a revolver fired on that open roof
would have sounded like a seventy-five.'

' True,' agreed St. Andr6, a little crestfallen. ' The man
was mad then. He did everything that was done, and then
committed suicide or was burnt alive/

' Ah, my friend,' said I, ' you have come to the madman
theory, eh ? So had I. It is the only one. But now I will tell
you something., The trumpeter did not do all this. He did
not murder the sous-ojficier, for that unfortunate had been
dead for hours, and the trumpeter had not been in the place
ten minutes ! '

* And that's that,' said St. Andre. ' Let's try again.'
And he tried again very ingeniously too. But he could put
forward no theory that he himself did not at once ridicule.

We were both, of course, weary to death and more in need
of twenty-four hours' sleep than twenty-four conundrums
but I do not know that I have done much better since.

And as I rode back to Tokotu, with my record go of fever,
my head opened with a tearing wrench and closed with a
shattering bang, at every stride of my camel, to the tune of,
' Who killed the Commandant, and why, why, why ? ' till I
found I was saying it aloud.

I am saying it still, George." . . .

9-

Passengers by the Appam, from Lagos to Birkenhead, were
interested in two friends who sat side by side in Madeira
chairs, or walked the promenade deck in close and constant
company.

The one, a tall, bronzed, lean Englishman, taciturn, for-
bidding, and grim, who never used two words where one
would suffice ; his cold grey eye looking through, or over,
those who surrounded him ; his iron-grey hair and moustache,
his iron-firm chin and mouth, suggesting the iron that had
entered into his soul and made him the hard, cold, bitter
person that he was, lonely, aloof, and self-sufficing. (Perhaps

64: BEAU GESTE

Lady Brandon of Brandon Abbas, alone of women, knew the
real man and what he might have been ; and perhaps half a
dozen men liked him as greatly as all men respected him.)

The other, a shorter, stouter, more genial person, socially
inclined, a fine type of French soldier, suave, courtly, and
polished, ruddy of face and brown of eye and hair, and vastly
improved by the removal, before Madeira, of a three years'
desert beard. He was obviously much attached to the
Englishman.. . . .

It appeared these two had something on their minds, for
day by day, and night by night, save for brief intervals for
eating, sleeping, and playing bridge, they interminably dis-
cussed, or rather the Frenchman interminably discussed, and
the Englishman intently listened, interjecting monosyllabic
replies.

When the Englishman contributed to the one-sided dia-
logue, a listener would have noted that he spoke most often
of a bareheaded man and of a paper, speculating as to the
identity of the former and the authorship of the latter.

The Frenchman, on the other hand, talked more of a
murder, a disappearance, and a fire. . . .

" How long is it since you heard from Lady Brandon,
Jolly ? " enquired George Lawrence, one glorious and invigor-
ating morning, as the Appam ploughed her steady way across
a blue and smiling Bay of Biscay.

" Oh, years and years/' was the reply. " I was at Brandon
Abbas for a week of my leave before last. That would be
six or seven years ago. I haven't written a line since the
letter of thanks after the visit. ... Do you correspond with
her at all regularly ? "

" Er no. I shouldn't call it regular correspondence
exactly," answered George Lawrence. " Are you going to
Brandon Abbas this leave ? " he continued, with a simulated
yawn.

" Well I feel I ought to go, mon vieux, and take that
incredible document, but it doesn't fit in with my plans at
all. I could post it to her, of course, but it would mean a
devil of a long letter of explanation, and I loathe letter-
writing ' fatigues ' more than anything."

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 65

" I'll take it if yon like/' said Lawrence. " I shall be near
Brandon Abbas next week. And knowing Michael Geete, I
confess I am curious."

Major de Beaujolais was conscious of the fact that " curious "
was not exactly the word he would have used. His self-
repressed, taciturn, and unemotional friend had been stirred
to the depths of his soul, and had given an exhibition of
interest and emotion such as he had never displayed before
in all de Beaujolais' experience of him.

What touched Lady Brandon evidently touched him to
an extent that rendered " curious " a curious word to use.
He smiled to himself as he gravely replied :

" But excellent, mon vieux f That would be splendid. It
will save me from writing a letter a mile long, and Lady
Brandon cannot feel that I have treated the affaire casually,
and as if of no importance. I explain the whole matter to
you, her old friend, give you the document, and ask you
to lay it before her. You could say that while supposing the
document to be merely a canard, interesting only by reason of
how and where it was found, I nevertheless think that she ought
to have it, just in case there is anything I can do in the matter.' 1

" Just that," agreed Lawrence. " Of course ' Beau * Qeste
never stole the sapphire, or anything else ; but I suppose,
as you say, a document like that ought to go to her and
Qeste, as their names are mentioned. 1 '

" Certainly, man ami. And if the stone has been stolen, the
paper might be an invaluable clue to its recovery. Hand-
writing, for example, a splendid clue. She could please her-
self as to whether she put it in the hands of your Criminal
Investigation Department at Scotland Yard and asked them
to get in toucn with our police. . . . Assure her of my anxiety
to do absolutely anything I can in the matter if either the
jewel or Michael Geste should be missing."

" Righto, Jolly," was the reply. " I'll drop in there one
day. Probably the first person I shall see will be ' Beau *
Geste himself, and probably I shall see the ' Blue Water the
same evening."

"No doubt, George," agreed de Beaujolais, and added,
" Do you know Michael Geste's handwriting f fl
3

66 BEAU GESTE

" No. Never saw it to my knowledge," was the reply.
" Why do you ask ! You don't suppose that Beau Geste
wrote that, do you ? "

" I have given up supposing, my friend," said de Beaujolais.
" But I shall open my next letter from you with some alacrity.
Either this ' Blue Water ' is stolen or it is not. In either case
that paper, in a dead man's hand, at Zinderneuf, is uniquely
interesting. But if it has been stolen, it will be of practical
as well as unique interest ; whereas if it has not been stolen,
the unique interest will be merely theoretical.".

" Not very practical from the point of view of recovery, I
am afraid. It looks as though the thief and the jewel and the
story all ended together in the burning of Zinderneuf fort,"
mused Lawrence.

" Mon Dieu ! I never thought of it before. The biggest and
finest sapphire in the world, valued at three-quarters of a
million francs, may be lying at this moment among the rubble
and rubbish of the burnt-out ruins of Zinderneuf fort 1 " said
de Beaujolais.

" By Jove ! So it may 1 " agreed Lawrence. " Suppose
it has been stolen. ... If I wired to you, could anything be
done about making a search there, do you think ? "

For a moment George Lawrence had visions of devoting his
leave to jewel-hunting, and returning to Brandon Abbas with
three-quarters of a million francs' worth of crystallised alumina
in his pocket.

" That will require prompt and careful consideration,
directly we learn that the stone has gone, George," said de
Beaujolais, and added : " This grows more and more in-
teresting. ... A treasure hunt at Zinderneuf ! Fancy the
Arabs if the information got about ! Fancy ^bhe builders
of the new fort, and the garrison I Zinderneuf would
become the most popular outpost in Africa, instead of
the least until the sapphire was found. If it is there,
I suppose the surest way to lose it for ever would be to
hint at the fact . . . No, we should have to keep it very
quiet and do all the searching ourselves, if possible. . . .
Good heavens above us 1 More complications I " He smiled
whimsically.

STRANGE EVENTS AT ZINDERNEUF 67

George Lawrence pursued his vision and the two fell silent
for a space.

" Supposing that stone had actually been in the pocket of
a man on that roof, when it collapsed into the furnace below,"
said de Beaujolais as ho sat up and felt for his cigarette case,
'* would the jewel be destroyed when the body of the man
was cremated ? Does fire affect precious stones ? "

" Don't know," replied Lawrence. " We could find that
out from any jeweller, I suppose. I rather think not. Aren't
they, in fact, formed in the earth by a heat greater than any
furnace can produce ? "

" Of course," agreed de Beaujolais. " You could make as
many diamonds as you wanted if you could get sufficient
heat and pressure. They are only crystallised carbon. Fire
certainly wouldn't hurt a diamond, and I don't suppose it
would hurt any other precious stone."

" No," he mused on. " If the Blue Water has been stolen,
it is probably safe and sound at this moment in Zindemeuf,
adorning the charred remains of a skeleton " . . . and
George Lawrence day-dreamed awhile, of himself, Lady
Brandon, and the sacrifice of his leave to the making of a great
restoration. Of his leave ? Nay, if necessary, of his career,
his whole life.

(" Describe me a man's day-dreams and I will describe you
the man," said the Philosopher. He might have described
George Lawrence as a romantic and quixotic fool-errant,
which ho was not, or perhaps merely as a man in love, which
he was. Possibly the Philosopher might have added that the
descriptions are synonymous, and that therefore George
Lawrence was both.)

He was awakened from his reverie by the voice of de
Beaujolais.

" Queer, that it never got into the papers, George," mused
that gentleman.

" Yes. It is," agreed Lawrence. " I should certainly have
seen it if it had. I read my Telegraph and Observer religiously.
. . . No, I certainly should never have missed it. ... Prob-
ably the damned thing was never stolen at all."

" Looks like it," said his friend. " Every English paper

6* BEAU GESTE

would have had an account of the theft of a famous jewel like
that. . . . Though it ia just possible that Lady Brandon
hushed it up for some reason. . . . What about an aperitif t
my old one ? "

And, his old one agreeing, they once more dropped the
subject of Beau Geste, the " Blue Water/' Zinderneuf, and ita
secret.

On parting in London, Major do Beaujolais handed a docu-
ment to George Lawrence, who promised to deliver it, and
also to keep his friend informed as to any developments oi
the story.

The Major felt that he had the middle of it, and he particu-
larly desired to discover ita beginning, and to follow it to the
end.

CHAPTER II

GEORGE LAWRENCE TAKES THE STORY TO LADY
BRANDON AT BRANDON ABBAS

S his hireMng car sped along the country road that led
to the park gates of Brandon Abbas, George Lawrence's
heart beat like that of a boy going to his first love-tryst.

Had she married him, a quarter of a century ago, when she
was plain (but very beautiful) Patricia Rivers, he probably
would still have loved her, though he would not have been in
love with her.

As it was he had never been anything but in love with her
from the time when he had taken her refusal like the man he
was, and had sought an outlet and an anodyne in work and
Central Africa.

As the car entered the gates and swept up the long, winding
avenue of Norman oaks, he actually trembled, and his bronzed
face was drawn and changed in tint. He drew ofE a glove and
put it on again, fingered his tie, and tugged at his moustache.

The car swept round a shrubbery-enclosed square at the
back of the house, and stopped at a big porch and a hospitably
open door. Standing at this, Lawrence looked into a well-
remembered panelled hall and ran his eye over its gleaming
floor and walls, almost nodding to the two suits of armoui
that stood one on each side of a big, doorless doorway. This
led into another hall, from, and round, which ran a wide
staircase and galleries right up to the top of the house, for,
from the floor of that hall one could look up to a glass roof
three stories above. He pictured it and past scenes enacted
in it, ard a woman with slow and stately grace, ascending
and descending.

Nothing seemed to have changed in those two and a half
decades since she had come here, a bride, and he had visited
her after seven years of exile. He had come, half in the hope

69

70 BEAU GESTE

that the sight of her in her own home, the wife of another
man, would cure him of the foolish love that kept him a lonely
bachelor, half in the hope that it would do the opposite, and
be but a renewal of love.

He had been perversely glad to find that he loved the
woman, if possible, more than he had loved the girl ; that
a callow boy's calf-love for a maiden had changed to a young
man's devotion to a glorious woman ; that she was to be a
second Dante's Beatrice.

Again and again, at intervals of years, he had visited the
shrine, not so much renewing the ever-burning fire at her
altar, as watching it flame up brightly in her presence. Nor
did the fact that she regarded him so much as friend that he
could never be more, nor less, in any way affect this undeviat-
ing unprofitable sentiment.

At thirty, at thirty-five, at forty, at forty-five, he found
that his love, if not unchanged, was not diminished, and that
she remained, what she had been since their first meeting, the
central fact of his life not so much an obsession, an idee fixe,
as his reason for existence, his sovereign, and the audience of
the play in the theatre of his life.

And, each time he saw her, she was, to his prejudiced eye,
more desirable, more beautiful, more wonderful. . . .

Yes there was the fifteenth-century chest in which reposed
croquet mallets, tennisi rackets, and the other paraphernalia
of those games. She had once sat on that old chest, beside him,
while they waited for the dog-cart to take him to the station
and back to Africa, and her hand had rested so kindly in his,
as he had tried to find something to say something other
than what he might not say. . . .

Opposite to it was the muniment-box, into which many an
abbot and holy friar had put many a lead -sealed parchment. It
would be full of garden rugs and cushions. On that, she had sat
beside him, after his dance with her, one New Year's Eve. . . .

Same pictures of horse and hound, and bird and beast ;
same antlers and foxes' masks and brushes ; same trophies
he had sent from Nigeria, specially good heads of lion, buffalo,
gwambaza, and gazelle.

From these his eye travelled to the great fire-place, on each

GEORGE LAWRENCE 71

side of which stood a mounted Lake Tchad elephant's foot,
doing menial service, while above its stone mantel, a fine
trophy of African weapons gleamed. One of his greatest
satisfactions had always been to acquire something worthy
to be sent to Brandon Abbas to give her pleasure and to
keep him in mind.

And now, perhaps, was his real chance of giving her pleasure
and keeping himself, for a space, very much in her mind. He
pulled the quaint old handle of a chain, and a distant bell clanged.

A footman Approached, a stranger.

He would enquire as to whether her ladyship were at home.
But as he turned to go, the butler appeared in the doorway
from the inner hall.

" Hallo, Burdon ! How are you ? " said Lawrence.

" Why, Mr. George, sir ! " replied the old man, who had
known Lawrence for thirty years, coming forward and look-
ing unwontedly human.

" This is a real pleasure, sir."

It was a real five-pound note too, when the visitor, a
perfect gent, departed. Quite a source of income Mr. Lawrence
had been, ever since Henry Burdon had been under-footman
in the service of her ladyship's father.

" Her Ladyship is at the Bower, sir, if you'd like to come
straight out," he continued, knowing that the visitor was a very
old friend indeed, and always welcome. " I will announce you."

Burdon led the way.

" How is Lady Brandon ? " enquired Lawrence, impelled
to unwonted loquacity by his nervousness.

" She enjoys very good health, sir considering," replied
the butler.

" Considering what ? " asked Lawrence.

" Everything sir," was the non-committal reply.

The visitor smiled to himself. A good servant, this.

" And how is his Reverence ? " he continued.

" Queer, sir, very. And gets queerer, poor gentleman,"
was the answer.

Lawrence expressed regret at this bad news concerning the
chaplain, as the Reverend Maurice Ffolliot was always called
in that house.

72 BEAU GESTB

" Is Mr, Michael here ? " he asked.

" No, sir, he ain't. Nor none of the other young gentle-
men," was the reply. Was there anything unusual in the old
man's tone ? . . .

Emerging from the shrubbery, crossing a rose-garden, some
lawn-tennis courts, and a daisy-pied stretch of cedar-studded
sward, the pair entered a wood, followed a path beneath
enormous elms and beeches, and came out on to a square of
velvet turf.

On two sides, the left and rear, rose the gre&t old trees of
a thickly forested hill ; on the right, the grey old house ; and
from the front of this open space the hillside fell away to the
famous view.

By wicker table and hammock-stand, a lady reclined in a
chaise longue. She was reading a book and her back was
towards Lawrence, whose heart missed a beat and hastened
to make up for the omission by a redoubled speed.

The butler coughed at the right distance and upon the right
note, and, as Lady Brandon turned, announced the visitor,
hovered, placed a wicker chair, and faded from the scene.

" Oeorge ! " said Lady Brandon, in her soft deep contralto,
with a pleased brightening of her wide grey eyes and flash of
beautiful teeth. But she did not flush nor pale, and there was
no quickening of her breathing. It was upon the man that
these symptoms were produced by the meeting, although it
was a meeting anticipated by him, unexpected by her.

" Patricia I " he said, and extended both hands. She took
them frankly and Lawrence kissed them both, with a curiously
gentle and reverent manner, an exhibition of a George
Lawrence unknown to other people.

"Well, my dear!" he said, and looked long at 'the unlined,
if mature, determined, clever face before him that of a
woman of forty years, of strong character and of aristocratic
breeding.

" Yes," he continued.

" Yes ' what/ George ? " asked Lady Brandon.

" Yes. You are positively as young and as beautiful as
ever," he replied but with no air of gallantry and compli-
ment, and rather as a sober statement of ascertained fact.

GEORGE LAWRENCE 73

a And you as foolish, George. ... Sit down ^nd tell me
why you have disobeyed me and come here before your
wedding. . . , Or or are you married, George ? " was the
smiling reply.

"No, Patricia, I am not married/' said Lawrence, relin-
quishing her hands slowly. " And I have disobeyed you, and
come here again without bringing a wife, because I hoped you
might be in need of my help. ... I mean, I feared you might
be in trouble and in need of help, and hoped that I might
be able to give it."

Lady Brandon fixed a penetrating gaze on Lawrence's face
neither startled nor alarmed, he felt, but keen and, possibly,
to be described as wary, or at least watchful.

" Trouble ? In need of help, George ? How ! " she asked,
and whatever of wariness or watchfulness had peeped from
her eyes retired, and her face became a beautiful mask,
showing no more than reposeful and faintly -amused interest.

" Well it is a longish story," said Lawrence. " But I
need not inflict it on you if you'll tell me if Beau Geste is all
right and er the ' Blue Water ' er safe and sound and
er all that, you know."

" What ? " ejaculated his hearer sharply.

There was no possible doubt now, as to the significance of
the look on Lady Brandon's face. It certainly could be called
one of alarm, and her direct gaze was distinctly watchful and
wary. Had not she also paled very slightly ? Undoubtedly
she frowned faintly as she asked :

" What are you talking about, George ? "

" Beau Geste, and the * Blue Water,' Patricia," replied
Lawrence. " If I appear to be talking through my hat, I am
not really, ^nd will produce reason for my wild-but-not-wicked
words," he laughed. " There is method in my madness, dear."

" There's madness in your method," replied Lady Brandon
a trifle tartly, and added : " Have you seen Michael, then ?
Or what ? Tell me ! "

" No. I have not seen him but . . ."

" Then what are you talking about ? What do you know ? "
she interrupted, speaking hurriedly, a very sure sign that she
was greatly perturbed.
3*

74 BEAU GESTE

" I don't know anything, Patricia, and I'm asking yoti,
because I have, most extraordinarily, come into possession of
a document that purports to be a confession by Beau that
he stole the ' Blue Water, 1 " began Lawrence.

" Then it was . . ." whispered Lady Brandon.

" Was what, Patricia ? " asked Lawrence.

" Go on, dear," she replied hastily. " How and where did
you get this confession ? Tell me quickly."

" As I said, it's a long story," replied Lawrence. " It was
found by de Bcaujolais at a place called Zindsrneuf in the
French Soudan, in the hand of a dead man ..."

" Not Michael ! " interrupted Lady Brandon.

" No a Frenchman. An adjudant in charge of a fort that
had been attacked by Arabs ..."

" Our Henri de Beaujolais ? " interrupted Lady Brandon,
again. " Who was at school with you ? . . . Rose Gary's
son ? "

"Yes. He found it in this dead officer's hand . . ." replied
Lawrence.

" Er has the sapphire been stolen, Patricia, and er
excuse the silly question is this Beau's writing ? " and he
thrust his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket.

" But of course it isn't," he continued as he produced an
envelope and extracted a stained and dirty piece of paper.

Lady Brandon took the latter and looked at it, her face
hard, enigmatical, a puzzled frown marring the smoothness
of her forehead, her firm shapely mouth more tightly com-
pressed than usual.

She read the document and then looked out into the
distance, down the coonibe, and across the green and smiling
plain, as though communing with herself and deciding how
to answer.

" Tell me the whole story from beginning to end, George,"
she said at length, " if it takes you the week-end. But tell
me this quickly. Do you know anything more than you have
told me, about either Michael or the ' Blue Water ' ? "

" I know nothing whatever, my dear," was the reply, and
the speaker thought he saw a look of relief, or a lessening of
the look of alarm on his hearer's face, " but what I have told

GEORGE LAWRENCE 75

you. You know as much as I do now except the details, of
course."

George Lawrence noted that Lady Brandon had neither
admitted nor denied that the sapphire had been stolen, had
neither admitted nor denied that the handwriting was that of
her nephew.

Obviously and undoubtedly there was something wrong,
something queer, and in connection with Beau Geste too.

For one thing, he was missing and she did not know where he
was.

But since all questions as to him, his handwriting, and the
safety of the jewel had remained unanswered, he could only
refrain from repeating them, and do nothing more but tell his
story, and, at the end of it, say : " If the ' Blue Water ' is not
in this house, Patricia, I am going straight to Zinderneuf
to find it for you."

She would then, naturally, give him all the information
she could, and every assistance in her power if the sapphire
had been stolen.

If it had not, she would, of course, say so.

But he wished she would be a little less guarded, a little
more communicative. It would be so very easy to say :
" My dear George, the * Blue Water ' is in the safe in the
Priests' Hole as usual, and Michael is in excellent health and
spirits," or, on the other hand, to admit at once : " The
' Blue Water ' has vanished and so has Michael."

However, what Patricia Brandon did was right. For what-
ever course of action she pursued, she had some excellent
reason, and he had no earthly cause to feel a little hurt at her
reticence in the matter.

For exanfple, if the impossible had come to pass, and Beau
Geste had stolen the sapphire and bolted, would it not be
perfectly natural for her to feel most reluctant to have it
known that her nephew was a thief a despicable creature
that robbed his benefactress ?

Of course. She would even shield him, very probably to
such an extent as was compatible with the recovery of the jewel.

Or if she were so angry, contemptuous, disgusted, as to feel
no inclination to shield him, she would at any rate regard the

78 BEAU GB8TB

affair as a disgraceful family scandal, about which the less
said the better. Quite BO.

But to him, who had unswervingly loved her from his
boyhood, and whom she frequently called her best friend,
the man to whom she would always turn for help, since the
pleasure of helping her was the greatest pleasure he could have ?
Why be reticent, guarded, and uncommunicative to him ?

But her pleasure was her pleasure, and his was to serve
it in any way she deigned to indicate. . . .

" Well, we'll have the details, dear, and tea as well," said
Lady Brandon more lightly and easily than she had spoken
since he had mentioned the sapphire.

" We'll have it in my boudoir, and I'll be at home to no-
body whomsoever. You shall just talk until it is time to
dress for dinner, and tell me every least detail as you go along.
Everything you think, too ; everything that Henri de
Beaujolais thought ; and everything you think he thought,
as well."

As they strolled back to the house, Lady Brandon slipped her
hand through Lawrence's arm, and it was quickly imprisoned.

He glowed with the delightful feeling that this brave and
strong woman (whose devoted love for another man was,
now, at any rate, almost maternal in its protecting care),
was glad to turn to him as others turned to her.

How he yearned to hear her say, when his tale was told :

" Help me, George. I have no one but you, and you are
a tower of strength. I am in great trouble."

" You aren't looking too well, George, my dear," she said,
as they entered the wood.

" Lot of fever lately," he replied, and added : * I feel as
fit as six people now," and pressed the hand that he had seized.

" Give it up and come home, George," said Lady Brandon,
and he turned quickly toward her, his eyes opening widely.
" And let me find you a wife," she continued.

Lawrence sighed and ignored the suggestion.

" How is Ffolliot ? " he asked instead.

" Perfectly well, thank you. Why shouldn't he be ! " was
the reply in the tone of which a careful listener, such as
George Lawrence, might have detected a note of defensive-

GEORGE LAWRENCE 77

ness, almost of annoyance, of repudiation of an unwarrantable
implication,

If Lawrence did detect it, he ignored this also.

" Where is the good Sir Hector Brandon t " he asked, with
casual politeness.

" Oh, in Thibet, or Paris, or East Africa, or Monte Carlo,
or the South Sea Islands, or Homburg. Actually Kashmir, I
believe, thank you, George/' replied Lady Brandon, and
added i " Have you brought a suit-case or must you wire ! "

" I er am staying at the Brandon Arms, and have one
there," admitted Lawrence.

" And how long have you been at the Brandon Arms,
George ? " she enquired.

" Five minutes," he answered.

" You must be tired of it then, dear," commented Lady
Brandon, and added i "111 send Robert down for your
things,"

2.

That evening, George Lawrence told Lady Brandon all that
Major de Beaujolais had told him, adding his own ideas,
suggestions, and theories. But whereas the soldier had been
concerned with the inexplicable events of the day, Lawrence
was concerned with the inexplicable paper and the means by
which it had reached the hand of a dead man, on the roof of
a desert outpost in the Sahara.

Throughout his telling of the tale, Lady Brandon main-
tained an unbroken silence, but her eyes scarcely left his face.

At the end she asked a few questions, but offered no opinion,
propounded no theory.

" We'll talk about it after dinner, George," she said.

And after a poignantly delightful dinner d deux it being
explained that the Reverend Maurice Ffolliot was dining
in his room to-night, owing to a headache George Lawrence
found that the talking was again to be done by him. All that
Lady Brandon contributed to the conversation was questions.
Again she offered no opinion, propounded no theory.

Nor, as Lawrence reluctantly admitted to himself, when he
lay awake in bed that night, did she once admit, nor even

78 BEAU GESTB

Imply, that the " Blue Water " had been stolen. His scrupu-
lous care to avoid questioning her on the subject of the
whereabouts of the sapphire and of her nephew, Michael
Geste, made this easy for her, and she had availed herself of
It to the full. The slightly painful realisation, that she now
knew all that he did whereas he knew nothing from her, could
not be denied.

Again and again it entered his mind and roused the question,
" Why cannot she confide in me, and at least sav whether the
sapphire has been stolen or not t "

Again and again he silenced it with the loyal reply, " For
some excellent reason. . . . Whatever she does is right."

After breakfast next day, Lady Brandon took him for a
long drive. That the subject which now obsessed him (as it
had, in a different way and for a different reason, obsessed
de Beaujolais) was also occupying her mind, was demon-
strated by the fact that, from time to time, and k propos of
nothing in particular, ;she would suddenly ask him some fresh
question bearing on the secret of the tragedy of Zinderneuf .

How he restrained himself from saying," Where is Michael !
Ecu anything happened t I* the * Blue Water ' stolen 1 "
he did not know. A hundred times, one or the other of these
questions had leapt from his brain to the tip of his tongue,
since the moment when, at their first interview, he had seen
that she wished to make no communication or statement
whatever.

As the carriage turned in at the park gates on their return,
he laid his hand on hers and said :

" My dear I think everything has now been said, except
one thing your instructions to me. All I want now is to be
told exactly what you want me to do."

" I will tell you that, George, when you go. . . * And
thank you, my dear," replied Lady Brandon.

So he possessed his soul in patience until the hour struck.

S3.

" Come and rest on this chest a moment, Patricia/ 9 he said,
on taking his departure next day, when she had telephoned

GEORGE LAWRENCE T9

to the garage, " to give me my orders. You are going to make
me happier than I have been since you told me that you liked
me too much to love me."

Lady Brandon seated herself beside Lawrence and all but
loved him for his chivalrous devotion, his unselfishness, his
gentle strength, and utter trustworthiness.

" We have sat here before, George/' she said, smiling, and,
as he took her hand i

" Listen, my dear. This is what I want you to do for me.
Just nothing at all. The * Blue Water ' is not at Zinderneuf,
nor anywhere else in Africa. Where Michael is I do not know.
What that paper means, I cannot tell. And thank you so
much for wanting to help me, and for asking no questions.
And now, good-bye, my dear, dear friend. . . ."

" Good-bye, my dearest dear," said George Lawrence,
most sorely puzzled, and went out to the door a sadder but
not a wiser man.

*.

AB the car drove away, Lady Brandon stood in deep thought,
pinching her lip.

" To think of that now ! " she said. . . . " ' Be sure your
sins.' . . . The world is a very small place . . *" and went
in search of the Reverend Maurice Ffolliot.

6.*

In regard to this same gentleman, George Lawrence enter-
tained feelings which were undeniably mixed.

As a just and honest man, he recognised that the Reverend
Maurice Ffolliot was a gentle-souled, sweet-natured, lovable
creature, alinished scholar, a polished and cultured gentleman
who had never intentionally harmed a living creature.

As the jealous, lifelong admirer and devotee of Lady
Brandon, the rejected but undiminished lover, he knew that he
hated not so much Ffolliot himself, as the fact of his existence.

Irrationally, George Lawrence felt that Lady Brandon
would long outlive that notorious evil-liver, her husband.
But for Ffolliot, he believed, his unswerving faithful devotion
would then get its reward. Not wholly selfishly, he considered

80 BEAU GESTB

that a truer helpmeet, a sturdier prop, a stouter shield and
buckler for this lady of many responsibilities, would be the
world-worn and experienced George Lawrence, rather than
this poor frail recluse of a chaplain.

Concerning the man's history, all he knew was, that he had
been the curate, well-born but penniless, to whom Lady
Brandon's father had presented the living which was in his
gift. With the beautiful Patricia Rivers, Ffolliot had fallen
disastrously and hopelessly in love.

Toward the young man, Patricia Rivers had entertained a
sentiment of affection, compounded more of pity than of love.

Under parental pressure, assisted by training and com-
parative poverty, ambition had triumphed over affection,
and the girl, after some refusals, had married wealthy Sir
Hector Brandon.

Later, and too late, she had realised the abysmal gulf that
must lie between life with a selfish, heartless, gross rou6, and
that with such a man as the companion of her youth, with
whom she had worked and played and whose cleverness, learn-
ing, sweet nature, and noble unselfishness she now realised.

Lawrence was aware that Lady Brandon fully believed that
the almost fatal nervous breakdown which utterly changed
Ffolliot in body and mind, was the direct result of her worldly
and loveless marriage with a mean and vicious man. In this
belief she had swooped down upon the poor lodgings where
Ffolliot lay at death's door, wrecked in body and unhinged
of mind, and brought him back with her to Brandon Abbas
as soon as he could be moved. From there he had never
gone not for a single day, nor a single hour.

When he recovered, he was installed as chaplain, and as
" the Chaplain " he had been known ever since. *

Almost reluctantly, George Lawrence admitted that most
of what was good, simple, kind, and happy in that house
emanated from this gentle presence. . . .

Pacing the little platform of the wayside station, it occurred
to George Lawrence to wonder if he might have more to tell
the puzzled de Beaujolais had his visit to Brandon Abbas
included the privilege, if not the pleasure, of a conversation
with the Reverend Maurice Ffolliot.

PART II
THB MYSTERY OF THE "BLUE WATER 1

CHAPTER I
BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND

" T TIIINPC perhaps, that if Very Small Geste were allowed

JL to live, he might retrieve his character and find a hero's
grave," said the Lieutenant.

" And what would he do if he found a hero's grave ? "
enquired the Captain.

" Pinch the flowers ofi it and sell them, I suppose. As
for retrieving his character, it is better not retrieved. Better
left where it is if it is not near inhabited houses, or water
used for drinking purposes ..."

" Oh, please let him live," interrupted Faithful Hound.
" He is very useful at times, if only to try things on."

I was very grateful to Faithful Hound for daring to inter-
cede for me, but felt that she was rating ray general usefulness
somewhat low.

" Well, we'll try bread and water on him, then," said the
Captain after a pause, during which I suffered many things.
" We'll also try a flogging," he added, on seeing my face
brighten, " and the name of Feeble Geste. . . . Remove it."

And I was removed by the Lieutenant, Ghastly Gustus,
and Queen Claudia, that the law might take its course. It
took it, wfyilc Faithful Hound wept apart and Queen Claudia
watched with deep interest.

I used to dislike the slice of bread and the water, always
provided for these occasions, even more than the " six of the
best," which was the flogging administered, more in sorrow
than in anger, by the Captain himself.

The opprobrious name only lasted for the day upon which it
was awarded, but was perhaps the worst feature of a punish-
ment. The others passed and were gone, but the name kept
one in the state of unblessedness, disgraced and outcast.

83

84 BEAU GESTE

Nor was one allowed in any way to retaliate upon the user
of the injurious epithet, awarded in punishment after formal
trial, however inferior and despicable he might be. One had
to answer to it promptly, if not cheerfully, or far worse would
befall.

This was part of the Law as laid down by the Captain,
and beneath his Law we lived, and strove to live worthily,
for we desired his praise and rewards more than we feared his
blame and punishments.

The Captain was my brother, Michael GeSte, later and
generally known as " Beau " Geste, by reason of his remark-
able physical beauty, mental brilliance, and general distinction.
He was a very unusual person, of irresistible charm, and his
charm was enhanced, to me at any rate, by the fact that he
was as enigmatic, incalculable, and incomprehensible as he
was forceful. He was incurably romantic, and to this trait
added the unexpected quality of a bull-dog tenacity. If
Michael suddenly and quixotically did some ridiculously
romantic thing, he did it thoroughly and completely, and he
stuck to it until it was done.

Aunt Patricia, whose great favourite he was, said that he
combined the inconsequent romanticism and reckless courage
of a youthful d'Artagnan with the staunch tenacity and
stubborn determination of a wise old Scotchman !

Little wonder that he exercised an extraordinary fascination
over those who lived with him.

The Lieutenant, my brother Digby, was his twin, a quarter
of an hour his junior, and his devoted and worshipping
shadow. Digby had all Michael's qualities, but to a less
marked degree, and he was " easier," both upon himself and
other people, than Michael was. He loved fun and laughter,
jokes and jollity, and, above all, he loved doing what Michael
did.

I was a year younger than these twins, and very much
their obedient servant. At preparatory school we were known
as Geste, Small Geste, and Very Small Geste, and I was,
indeed, Very Small in all things, compared with my brilliant
brothers, to please whom was my chief aim in life.

Probably 1 transferred to them the affection, obedience,

BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND 85

and love-hunger that would have been given to my parents
in the ordinary course of events ; but we were orphans,
remembered not our mother nor our father, and Jived our
youthful lives between school and Brandon Abbas, as soon
as we emerged from the Chaplain's tutelage.

Our maternal aunt, Lady Brandon, did more than her
duty by us, but certainly concealed any love she may have
felt for any of us but Michael.

Childless herself, I think all the maternal love she had to
spare was given to him and Claudia, an extraordinarily
beautiful girl whose origin was, so far as we were concerned,
mysterious, but who was vaguely referred to as a cousin.
She and a niece of Aunt Patricia, named Isobel Rivers, also
spent a good deal of their childhood at Brandon Abbas,
Isobel being, I tliink, imported as a playmate and com-
panion for Claudia when we were at school. She proved
an excellent playmate and companion for us also, and, at an
early date, earned and adorned the honorary degree and
honourable title of Faithful Hound.

A frequent visitor, Augustus Brandon, nephew of Sir
Hector Brandon, often came during our holidays, in spite of
the discouragement of the permanent name of Ghastly Gustus
and our united and undisguised disapproval.

One could not love Augustus ; he was far too like Uncle
Hector for one thing, and, for another, he was too certain he
was the heir and too disposed to presume upon it. However,
Michael dealt with him faithfully, neither sparing the rod nor
spoiling the child. . . .

2.

I do not'remember the precise crime that had led to my
trial and sentence, but I recollect the incident clearly enough,
for two reasons.

One was that, on this very day of my fall from grace, I
achieved the permanent and inalienable title and status of
Stout Fella, when, inverting the usual order of precedence,
Pride came after the Fall. The other reason was that, on
that evening, we had the exciting privilege of seeing and
handling the " Blue Water/' as it is called, the great sapphire

86 BEAU GESTE

which Uncle Hector had given to Aunt Patricia as a wedding
gift. I believe his great-grandfather, " Wicked Brandon,"
had " acquired " it when soldiering against Dupleix in India.

It is about the loveliest and most fascinating thing I have
ever seen, and it always affected me strangely. I could look
at it for hours, and it always gave me a curious longing to put
it in my mouth, or crush it to my breast, to hold it to my
nose like a flower, or to rub it against my ear.

To look at it was, at one and the same time, most satisfying
and most tantalising, for one always longed to do more than
merely look and, moreover, more than merely touch, as
veil. So wonderful and beautiful an object seemed to demand
the exercise of all five senses, instead of one or two, for the
full appreciation of all the joy it could offer.

When I first heard the charitable remark, " Sir Hector
Brandon bought Patricia Rivers with the * Blue Water * and
now owns the pair," I felt that both statements were true.

For what other reason could a woman like Aunt Patricia
have married Uncle Hector, and did not he still own the
" Blue Water " and so retain his sole claim to distinction ?

Certainly his wife did not own it, for she could not wear it,
nor do anything else with it. She could merely look at it
occasionally, like anybody else. That was something any-
how, if it affected her as it did me. . . .

My degree of S.F. (Stout Fella) I earned in this wise.
One of Michael's favourite and most thrilling pastimes was
" Naval Engagements." When this delightful pursuit was
in being, two stately ships, with sails set and rudders fixed,
were simultaneously shoved forth from the concrete edge of
the lily-pond, by the Captain and the Lieutenant respectively.

They were crowded with lead soldiers, bore eadi a battery
of three brass camion, and were, at the outset, about a yard
apart. But to each loaded brass cannon was attached a fuse,
and, at the Captain's word, the fuses were lighted as the ships
were launched from, their harbours.

The Captain presided over the destinies of the ship that
flew the White Ensign and Union Jack, and the Lieutenant
over those of the one that carried the Tri-couleur of France.

There was a glorious uncertainty of result. Each ship

BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND 87

might receive a broadside from the other, one alone might
suffer, or both might blaze ineffectually into the blue, by
reason of a deviation of their courses. After the broadsides
had been exchanged, we all sat and gloated upon the attrac-
tive scene, as the ships glided on, wreathed in battle-smoke,
perhaps with riddled sails and splintered hulls (on one memor-
able and delightful occasion with the French ship dismasted
and the Tri-couleur trailing in the water).

I was then privileged to wade, like Gulliver at Lilliput, into
the deep, and* bring the ships to harbour where their guns
were reloaded by Michael and Digby, and the voyage re-
peated. . . .

On this great day, the first combat was ideal. The ships
converged, the guns of both fired almost simultaneously,
splinters flew, soldiers fell or were sent flying overboard, the
ships rocked to the explosions and concussion of the shot, and
then drifted together and remained locked in a death-grapple
to the shouts of " Boarders ready " and " Prepare to receive
boarders," from the Captain and Lieutenant.

" Fetch 'em in, Feeble Geste," said Michael, imagination
sated, and tucking up my trousers, I waded in, reversed the
ships, and Bent them to port.

The next round was more one-sided, for only one of the
French ship's guns fired, and that, the feeblest. Keith**- the
big gun amidships, that carried either a buckshot or half
a dozen number-sixes, nor the stern-chaser swivel-gun was
properly fused.

I waded in again, turned the French ship, and, with a
mighty bang, her big gun went off, and I took the charge
in my leg. Luckily for me it was a single buckshot. I nearly
sat down.

" I'm shot," I yelped.

" Hanging would be more appropriate," said the Captain.
" Come here."

Blood oozed from a neat blue hole, and Faithful Hound
uttered a dog-like howl of woe and horror.

Claudia asked to be informed exactly how it felt.

" Just like being shot," I replied, and added : "I am
going to be sick."

88 BEAU GE8TE

" Do it in the pond then," requested the Captain, producing
his pocket-knife and a box of matches.

" Going to cauterise the wound and prevent its turning
sceptic ? " enquired the Lieutenant, as the Captain struck
a match, and held the point of the small blade in the flame.

"No," replied the Captain. " Naval surgery without
aesthetics. . . . Cut out the cannon-ball."

" Now," continued he, turning to me as I sat wondering
whether I should shortly have a wooden leg, " will you be
gagged or chew on a bullet ? I don't want to be disturbed
by your beastly yells."

" I shall not yell, Captain," I replied with dignity, and &
faint hope that I spoke the truth.

" Sit on his head, Dig," said Michael to the Lieutenant ;
but waving Digby away, I turned on my side, shut my eyes,
and offered up my limb.

" Hold his hoof then," ordered the Captain. . . .

It was painful beyond words ; but I contrived to hold my
peace, by biting the clenched knuckle of my forefinger, and
to refrain from kicking by realising that it was impossible,
with Digby sitting on my leg and Claudia standing on my
foot.

After what seemed a much longer time than it was, I heard
Michael say, apparently from a long way off : " Here it
comes," and then, a cheer from the Band and a dispersal of
my torturers, announced the recovery of the buckshot.

" Shove it back in the gun, Dig," said the Captain ; " and
you, Isobel, sneak up to the cupboard outside our bathroom
and bring me the scratch-muck."

The Faithful Hound, mopping her tear-bedewed face, sped
away and soon returned with the scratch-muck fthe bottle of
antiseptic lotion, packet of boric lint, and roll of bandage,
which figured as the sequela to all our minor casualties).

I believe Michael made a really excellent job of digging out
the bullet and dressing the wound. Of course, the ball had
not penetrated very deeply, or a penknife would hardly have
been the appropriate surgical tool ; but, as things were, a
doctor could not have been very much quicker, nor the healing
of the wound more clean and rapid.

BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND 89

And when the bandage was fastened, the Captain, in the
presence of the whole Band and some temporary members,
visitors, raised me to the seventh heaven of joy and pride by
solemnly conferring upon me in perpetuity, the rank and title
of Stout Fella, in that I had shed no tear and uttered no sound
during a major operation of " naval surgery without
aesthetics."

Further, he awarded me the signal and high honour of a
full-dress " Viking's funeral."

Now a Viking's funeral cannot be solemnised every day in
the week, for it involves, among other things, the destruction
of a long-ship.

The dead Viking is laid upon a funeral pyre in the centre
of his ship, his spear and shield are laid beside him, his horse
and hound are slaughtered and their bodies placed in attend-
ance, the pyre ia lighted, and the ship sent out to sea with all
sail set.

On this occasion, the ofiending French ship was dedicated
to these ocean obsequies.

A specially selected lead soldier was solemnly endowed
with the name and attributes of The Viking Eorl, John Geste,
laid upon a matchbox filled with explosives, a pyre of matches
built round him on the deck of the ship (the ship drenched
with paraffin), his horse laid at the head of his pyre, and a
small (china) dog at his feet.

All being ready, we bared our heads, Michael, with raised
hand, solemnly uttered the beautiful wo^ds, " Ashes to ashes
and dust to dust, if God won't Jiave you the devil must" and,
applying a match to the pyre, shoved the long-ship (late
French battleship) well out into the middle of the lily-pond.

Here it ourned gloriously, the leaping flames consuming
the mast and sail so that the charred wreckage went by the
board, and we stood silent, envisaging the horrors of a burning
ship at sea.

As the vessel burned down to the water's edge, and then
disappeared with hissings and smoking, Michael broke the
ensuing silence with words that I was to remember many
years later in a very different place. (Apparently Digby
remembered them too.)

90 BEAU GESTE

" That'* what I call a funeral ! " said Michael. " Compare
that with being stuck ten feet down in the mud and clay of
a beastly cemetery for worms to eat and maggots to wriggle
about in you. . . . Gripes 1 I'd give something to have one
like that when my turn comes. . . . Good idea I I'll write it
down in iny will, and none of you dirty little dogs will get
anything from me, unless you see it properly done."

" Righto, Beau," said Digby. " I'll give you one, old
chap, whenever you like."

" So will I you, Dig, if you die first," replied* Michael to his
twin, and they solemnly shook hands upon it. ...

My gratification for these honours was the greater in that
nothing had been further from my thoughts than such pro-
motion and reward. Frequently had I striven in the past
to win one of the Band's recognised Orders of Merit Faithful
Hound, Good Egg, Stout Fella, or even Order of Michael
(For Valour) but had never hitherto won any decoration
or recognition beyond some such cryptic remark from
the Captain as, " We shall have to make John, Chaplain
to the Band, if he does many more of these Good
Deeds. . . ."

That evening when we were variously employed in tho
schoolroom, old Burdon, the butler, came and told us that
we could go into the drawing-room.

Claudia and Isobel were there, the former talking in a very
self-possessed and grown-up way to a jolly-looking foreign
person, to whom we were presented. He turned out to be a
French cavalry officer, and we were thrilled to discover that
he was on leave from Morocco where he had been, fighting.

" Bags I we get him up to the schoolroom to-morrow,"
whispered Michael, as we gathered round a glass dome, like
a clock-cover, inverted over a white velvet cushion on which
lay the " Blue Water " sapphire.

We looked at it in silence, and, to me, it seemed to grow
bigger and bigger until I felt as though I could plunge head
first into it.

Young as I was, I distinctly had the feeling that it would
not be a good thing to stare too long at that wonderful con-

BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND 91

centration of living colour. It seemed alive and, though
inexpressibly beautiful, a little sinister.

" May we handle it, Aunt Patricia ? J> asked Claudia, and,
as usual, she got her way.

Aunt Patricia lifted oS the glass cover and handed the
jewel to the Frenchman, who quickly gave it to Claudia.

" That has caused we know not what of strife and sorrow
and bloodshed," he said. " What a tale it could tell ! "

" Can you tell tales of strife and bloodshed, please ? "
asked Michael, and as Claudia said, " Why, of course ! He
leads charges of Arab cavalry like Under Two Flags" as
though she had known him for years, we all begged him to
tell us about his fighting, and he ranked second only to the
" Blue Water " as a centre of attraction.

On the following afternoon, the Captain deputed Claudia
to get the Frenchman to tell us some tales.

" Decoy yon handsome stranger to our lair," quoth he.
" I would wring his secrets from him.'*

Nothing loth, Claudia exercised her fascinations upon him
after lunch, and brought him to our camp in the Bower, a
clearing in the woods near the house.

Here he sat on a log and absolutely thrilled us to the
marrow of our bones by tales, most graphically and realisti-
cally told, of the Spahis, the French Foreign Legion, the
Chasseurs d'Afrique, Zouaves, Turcos, and other romantically
named regiments.

He told us of desert warfare, of Arab cruelties and chivalries,
of hand-to-hand combats wherein swordsman met swordsman
on horseback as in days of old, of brave deeds, of veiled
Touaregs, veiled women, secret Moorish cities, oases, mirages,
sand-stornls, and the wonders of Africa.

Then he showed us fencing-tricks and feats of swordsman-
ship, until, when he left us, after shaking our hands and
kissing Claudia, we were his, body and soul. . . .

"I'm going to join the French Foreign Legion when I
leave Eton," announced Michael suddenly. " Get a com-
mission and then join his regiment."

" So am I," said Digby, of course.

" And I," I agreed.

92 BEAU GESTE

Augustus Brandon looked thoughtful.

" Could 1 be a vivandiere and come too ! " asked Isobel.

" You shall all visit me in your officers' uniforms," promised
Claudia. " French officers always wear them in France.
Very nice too." . . .

Next day we went back to our preparatory school at
Slough.

3.

The next time I saw the " Blue Water " wfcs during the
holidays before our last half at Eton.

The occasion was the visit of General Sir Basil Malcolmson,
an authority on gems, who was, at the time, Keeper of the
Jewel House at the Tower of London, and had, I think,
something to do with the British Museum. He had written
a " popular " history of the well-known jewels of the world,
under the title of Famous Gems, and was now writing a
second volume dealing with less-known stones of smaller
value.

He had written to ask if he might include an account of
the " Blue Water " sapphire and its history.

I gathered from what Claudia had heard her say, that
Aunt Patricia was not extraordinarily delighted about it,
and that she had replied that she would be very pleased to
show Sir Basil the stone ; but that very little was known of
its history beyond the fact that it had been " acquired "
(kindly word) by the seventh Sir Hector Brandon in India in
the eighteenth century, when he was a soldier of fortune in
the service of one of the Nawabs or Rajahs of the Deccan,
probably Nunjeraj, Sultan of Mysore.

The General was a very interesting talker, arfd at dinner
that night he told us about such stones as the Timour Ruby,
the Hope Diamond, and the Stuart Sapphire (which is in the
King's crown), until the conversation at times became a
monologue, which I, personally, greatly enjoyed.

I remember his telling us that it was he who discovered that
the Nadirshah Uncut Emerald was not, as had been supposed,
a lump of glass set in cheap and crude Oriental gold- work.
It had been brought to this country after the Mutiny as an

BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND 93

ordinary example of mediaeval Indian jewel-setting, and was
shown as sucli at the Exhibition at the Crystal Palace. Sir
Basil Malcolmson had examined it and found that the
" scratches " on it were actually the names of the Moghul
Emperors who had owned it and had worn it in their turbans.
This had established, once and for all, the fact that it is one
of the world's greatest historic gems, was formerly in the
Peacock Throne at Delhi, and literally priceless in value.
1 think he added that it was now in the llegalia at the Tower
of London.

I wondered whether the " Blue Water " and the " Nadirshah
Emerald " had ever met in India, and whether the blue stone
had seen as much of human misery and villainy as the great
green one. Quite possibly, the sapphire had faced the emerald,
the one in the turban of Shivaji, the Maratha soldier of fortune,
and the other in that of Akhbar, the Moghul Emperor.

And I remember wondering whether the stones, the one in
the possession of a country gentleman, the other in that of
the King of England, had reached the ends of their respective
histories of theft, bloodshed, and human suffering.

Certainly it seemed impossible that the " Blue Water "
should again " see life " (and death) until one remembered
that such stones are indestructible and immortal, and may be,
thousands of years hence, the cause of any crime that greed
and covetousness can father. . . .

Anyhow, I should be glad to see the big sapphire again,
and hear anything that Sir Basil might have to say about it.

I remember that Augustus distinguished himself that
evening.

" I wonder how much you'd give Aunt for the ' Blue
Water/ " lie remarked to Sir Basil.

" I am not a dealer/' replied that gentleman.

And when Claudia asked Aunt Patricia if she were going
to show Sir Basil the Priests' Hole and the hiding-place of the
safe in which the sapphire reposed, the interesting youth
observed :

" Better not, Aunt. He might come back and pinch it
one dark night the sapphire I mean, not the Hole."

Ignoring him, Aunt Patricia said that she would take Sir

94 BEAU GESTE

Basil and the other guest, a man named Lawrence, a Nigerian
official who was an old friend, and show them the Priests'
Hole.

The conversation then turned upon the marvellous history
of the Hope Diamond, and the incredible but true tale of the
misfortune which invariably befell its possessor ; upon
Priests' Holes and the varying tide of religious persecution
which led to the fact that the same hiding-place had sheltered
Koman Catholic priests and Protestant pastors in turn ; and
upon the day when Elizabethan troopers, searching for
Father Campion, did damage to our floors, pictures, panelling,
and doors (traces of which arc still discernible), without dis-
covering the wonderfully-contrived Priests' Hole at all.

It was near the end of this very interesting dinner that
our beloved and reverend old friend, the Chaplain, made it
more memorable than it otherwise would have been.

He had sat throughout dinner behaving beautifully, talking
beautifully, and looking beautiful (with his ivory face and silver
hair, which made him look twenty years older than he was),
and then, just as Burdon put the decanters in front of him,
he suddenly did what he had never done before " broke out "
in Aunt Patricia's presence. We had often known him to be
queer, and it was an open secret in the house that he was
to be humoured when queer (but if open, it was still a secret
nevertheless), though he was always perfectly normal in
Aunt Patricia's presence.

And now it happened !

" Burdon," said he, in the quiet voice in which one speaks
" aside " to a servant, " could you get me a very beautiful
white rabbit with large pink eyes, and, if possible, a nice
pink ribbon round its neck ? A mauve would do. ... But
on no account pale blue ribbon, Burdon."

It was a bad break and we all did our best to cover it up
by talking fast but Burdon and Michael were splendid.

" Certainly, your Reverence," said Burdon without turning
a hair, and marched straight to the screen by the service-door,
as one expecting to find a white rabbit on the table behind ifc.

" That's a novel idea, sir," said Michael. " I suppose it'i

BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND 95

a modern equivalent of the roast peacock brought to table
in its feathers, looking as though it were alive ? Great
idea . . ."

" Yes," Digby took him up. " Boar's head, with glass eyes
and all that. Never heard of a rabbit served in its jacket
though, I think. Good idea, anyhow.'*

The Chaplain smiled vacantly, and Augustus Brandon
giggled and remarked :

" I knew a man who jugged his last hair, though."

I hastened to join in, and Isobel began to question the
Chaplain as to the progress of his book on Old Glass, a book
which he had been writing for years, the subject being his pet
hobby.

I wondered whether my aunt, at the head of the table,
had noticed anything. Glancing at her, I saw that she looked
ten years older than she had done before it happened.

As I held the door open, when the ladies retired after
dinner, she whispered to me in passing, " Tell Michael to look
after the Chaplain this evening. He has been suffering from
insomnia and is not himself."

But later, in the drawing-room, when the " Blue Water "
was smiling, beguiling, and alluring from its white velvet
cushion beneath the glass dome, and we stood round the
table on which it lay, the Chaplain certainly was himself,
and, if possible, even more learned and interesting on the
subject of gems than the great Sir Basil.

I was very thankful indeed, for my heart ached for Aunt
Patricia as she watched him ; watched him just as a mother
would watch an only child of doubtful sanity, balanced
between her hope and her fear, her passionate denial of its
idiocy, her passionate joy in signs of its normality.

4.

Poor Aunt Patricia ! She had contracted an alliance witt
Sir Hector Brandon as one might contract a disease. The
one alleviation of this particular affliction being its inter-
mi ttence ; for this monument of selfishness was generally
anywhere but at home, he being a mighty hunter before the

96 BEAU GESTE

Lord (or the Devil) and usually in pursuit of prey, biped or
quadruped, in distant places. It is a good thing to have a
fixed purpose, an aim, and an ambition in life, and Sir Hector
boasted one. It was to be able to say that he had killed one
of every species of beast and bird and fish in the world, and
had courted a woman of every nationality in the world !
A great soul fired with a noble ambition.

As children, we did not, of course, realise what Aunt
Patricia suffered at the hands of this violent and bad man
when he was at home, nor what his tenants* and labourers
suffered when he was absent.

As we grew older, however, it was impossible to avoid
knowing that he was universally hated, and that he bled the
estate shamefully and shamelessly, that he might enjoy
himself abroad.

Children might die of diphtheria through faulty drains or
lack of drains ; old people might die of chills and rheumatism
through leaking roofs and damply rotting cottages ; every
farmer might have a cankering grievance ; the estate-agent
might have the position and task of a flint-skinning slave-
owner ; but Sir Hector's yacht and Sir Hector's lady-friends
would lack for nothing, nor his path through life be paved
with anything less than gold.

And Lady Brandon might remain at home to face the
music whether angry growls of wrath, or feeble cries of
pain.

But we boys and girls were exceedingly fortunate, a happy
band who followed our leader Michael, care-free and joyous. . . .

5.

I think that the feat of Michael's that impressed us most,
was his sustaining the role of a Man in Armour successfully
for what seemed an appallingly long time. (It was nearly
long enough to cause my death, anyhow !)

We were in the outer hall one wet afternoon, and the
brilliant idea of dressing up in one of the suits of armour
occurred to the Captain of the Band.

Nothing loth, we, his henchmen, quickly became Squires

BEAU GESTE AND HIS BAND 97

of, more or less, High Degree, and with much ingenuity and
more string, more or less correctly cased the knight in his
armour.

He was just striking an attitude and bidding a caitiff to
die, when the sound of a motor-horn anachronistically in-
truded and the Band dispersed as do rabbits at the report of
a gun.

Michael stepped up on to the pedestal and stood at ease
(Ease !) Digby fled up the stairs, the girls dashed into the
drawing-room/ Augustus and another visitor rushed down a
corridor to the service-staircase, and I, like Ginevra, dived
into a great old chest on the other side of the hall.

There I lay as though screwed down in a coffin and pride
forbade me ignominiously to crawl forth. I realised that I
was suffering horribly and the next thing that I knew was
that I was lying on my bed and Michael was smiting my face
with a wet sponge while Digby dealt kindly blows upon my
chest and stomach.

When sufficiently recovered and sufficiently rebuked for
being such an ass, I was informed that Aunt Patricia had
driven up with a " black man " mystery of mysteries !
and had confabulated with him right in front of the Man in
Armour, afterwards speeding the " black man " on his way
again in her car.

We were much intrigued, and indulged in much speculation
the more, in that Michael would not say a word beyond
that such a person had come and had gone again, and that
he himself had contrived to remain so absolutely still in
that heavy armour that not a creak, rustle, clank, or other
sound had betrayed the fact that there actually was a Man
in the Armour !

In the universal and deserved admiration for this feat,
my own poor performance in preferring death to discovery
and dishonour passed unpraised.

I must do Michael the justice, however, to state that directly
Aunt Patricia had left the hall, he had hurried to raise the
lid of the chest in which I was entombed, and had himself
carried me upstairs as soon as his armour was removed and
restored to its place.
4

98 BEAU GE8TE

Digby, who, from long and painful practice, was an expert
bugler, took down his old coach-horn from its place on the
wall and blew what he said was an " honorific fanfare of
heralds' trumpets," in recognition of the tenacity displayed
both by Michael and myself.

I must confess, however, that in spite of Michael's reticence
concerning the visit of the " black man/' we others dis-
cussed the strange event in all its bearings.

We, however, arrived at no conclusion, and were driven
to content ourselves with a foolish theory that the strange
visitor was in some way connected with a queer boy, now
a very distinguished and enlightened ruler in India. lie
was the oldest son and heir of the Maharajah, his father,
and had been at the College for the sons of Ruling Princes
in India, I think the Rajkumar College at Ajmir, before
coming to Eton.

He was a splendid athlete and sportsman, and devoted to
Michael to the point of worship.

Aunt Patricia welcomed him to Brandon Abbas at Michael's
request, and when he saw the " Blue Water " he actually and
literally and completely fainted.

I suppose the sight of the sapphire was the occasion rather
than the cause, but the fact remains. It was queer and un-
canny beyond words, the more so because he never uttered a
sound, and neither then nor subsequently ever said one
syllable on the subject of the great jewel !

And so we lived our happy lives at Brandon Abbas, when
not at our prep, school, at Eton, or later, at Oxford.

CHAPTER II
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE "BLUE WATER"

ND then, one autumn evening, the face of life changed
as utterly and suddenly as unexpectedly. The act of
one person altered the lives of all of us, and brought suffering,
exile, and death in its train.

I am neither a student nor a philosopher, but I would like
some convinced exponent of the doctrine of Free Will to
explain how we are anything but the helpless victims of the
consequences of the acts of other people. How I envy the
grasp and logic of those great minds that can easily recon-
cile " unto t/ie third and fourth generation," for example, with
this comfortable doctrine !

On tins fine autumn evening, so ordinary, so secure and
comfortable, so fateful and momentous, we sat in the great
drawing-room of Brandon Abbas, after dinner, all together
for what proved to be the last time. There were present
Aunt Patricia, the Chaplain, Claudia, Isobel, Michael, Digby,
Augustus Brandon, and myself.

Aunt Patricia asked Claudia to sing, and that young lady
excused herself on the score of being out of sorts and not
feeling like it. She certainly looked pale and somewhat below
her usual sparkling standard of health and spirits. I had
thought for some days that she had seemed preoccupied and
worried, and I had wondered if her bridge-debts and dress-
makers' bills were the cause of it.

With her wonted desire to be helpful and obliging, Isobel
went to the piano, and for some time we sat listening to her
sweet and sympathetic voice, while my aunt knitted, the
Chaplain twiddled his thumbs, Claudia wrestled with some
unpleasant problem in frowning abstraction, Augustus shuffled
and tapped his cigarette-case with a cigarette he dared not

99

100 BEAU GESTE

light, Digby turned over the leaves of a magazine, and Michael
watched Claudia.

Presently Isobel rose and closed the piano.

" What about a game of pills ? " said Augustus, and before
anyone replied, Claudia said :

" Oh, Aunt, do let's have the * Blue Water * down for a
little while. I haven't seen it for ages."

" Rather ! " agreed Michael. " Let's do a gloat, Aunt,"
and the Chaplain supported him and said he'd bo delighted
to get it, if Lady Brandon would give permission.

Only he and Aunt Patricia knew the secret of the Priests'
Hole (excepting Sir Hector, of course), and I believe it would
have taken an extraordinarily ingenious burglar to have
discovered it, even given unlimited opportunity, before
tackling the safe in which the " Blue Water," with other
valuables, reposed. (I know that Michael, Digby, and I had
spent countless hours, with the knowledge and consent of
our aunt, in trying to find, without the slightest success, the
trick of this hiding-place of more than one hunted divine.
It became an obsession with Michael.) . . .

Aunt Patricia agreed at once, and the Chaplain disappeared.
He had a key which gave access to the hiding-place of the
keys of the safe which the Priests' Hole guarded.

" What is the ' Blue Water ' worth, Aunt Patricia ! " asked
Claudia.

" To whom, dear ? " was the reply.

" Well what would a Hatton Garden person give for it ? "

" About a half what he thought his principal would be
willing to offer, perhaps."

" Aid what would that be, about, do you suppose ? "

" I don't know, Claudia. If some American millionaire
were very anxious to buy it, I suppose he'd try to find out the
lowest sum that would be considered," was the reply.

" What would you ask, supposing you were going to sell
it ? " persisted Claudia.

" I certainly am not going to sell it," said Aunt Patricia,
in a voice that should have closed the conversation. She
had that day received a letter from her husband announcing
his early return from India, and it had not cheered her at all.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 101

"I did hear someone say once that Uncle Hector was
offered thirty thousand pounds for it," said Augustus.

" Did you ? " replied Aunt Patricia, and at that moment
the Chaplain returned, carrying the sapphire on its white
velvet cushion, under its glass dome. He placed it on a table
under the big hanging chandelier, with its countless cut-
glass pendants and circle of electric bulbs.

There it lay, its incredible, ineffable, glowing blue fascinating
us as we gazed upon it.

"It is A wdnderful thing," said Isobel, and I wondered
how often those very words had been said of it.

"Oh, let me kiss it," cried Claudia, and with one hand the
Chaplain raised the glass dome, and with the other handed
the sapphire to Aunt Patricia, who examined it as though sh
had not handled it a thousand times. She looked through it
at the light. She then passed it to Claudia, who fondled it
awhile.

We all took it in turn, Augustus throwing it up and catching
it as he murmured, " Thirty thousand pounds for a bit of
glass ! "

When Michael got it, I thought he was never going to pass
it on. He weighed and rubbed and examined it, more in the
manner of a dealer than an admirer of the beautiful.

Finally, the Chaplain put it back on its cushion and replaced
the glass cover.

We sat and stood around for a few minutes, while the
Chaplain said something about Indian Rajahs and their
marvellous hereditary and historical jewels.

I was standing close to the table, bending over and peering
into the depths of the sapphire again ; Augustus was reiterat
ing, " Who says a game of pills, pills, pills ? " when, suddenly,
as occasionally happened, the electric light failed, and we
were plunged in complete darkness.

" What's Fergusson up to now ? " said Digby, alluding
to the head chauffeur, who was responsible for the engine.

" It'll come on again in a minute," said Aunt Patricia, and
added, " Burdon will bring candles if it doesn't. . . . Don't
wander about, anybody, and knock things over."

Somebody brushed lightly against me as I stood by the table.

102 BEAU GESTE

" Ghosta and goblins ! " said Isobel in a sepulchral voice.
" Who* s got a match ? A skeleton hand is about to clutch
my throat. I can see . . ."

" Everybody/' I remarked, as the light came on again,
and we blinked at each other in the dazzling glare, so suddenly
succeeding the velvet darkneSvS.

" Saved ! " said Isobel, with an exaggerated sigh of relief,
and then, as I looked at her, she stared wide-eyed and open-
mouthed, and then pointed speechless. . . .

The "Blue Water" had vanished. Th6 white velvet
cushion was bare, and the glass cover covered nothing but
the cushion.

2.

We must have looked a foolish band as we stood and stared,
for a second or two, at that extraordinarily empty-looking
abode of the great sapphire. I never saw anything look so
empty in my life. Aunt Patricia broke the silence and the
spell.

" Your joke, Augustus ? " she enquired, in that rarely-used
tone of hers that would have made an elephant feel small.

" Eh ? Me ? No, Aunt ! Really ! I swear ! / never
touched it," declared the youth, colouring warmly.

" Well there's someone with a sense of humour all his
own," she observed, and I was glad that I was not the mis-
guided humorist. Also I was glad that she had regarded the
joke as more probably Augustan than otherwise.

" You were standing by the table, John," she continued,
turning to me. " Are you the jester ? "

" No, Aunt," I replied with feeble wit, " only the Geste."

As Digby and Michael both flatly denied any part in this
poor practical joke, Aunt Patricia turned to the girls.

" Surely not ? " she said, raising her fine eyebrows.

" No, Aunt, I was too busy with ghosts and goblins and
the skeleton hand, to use my own hand for sticking and
peeling I mean picking and stealing," said Isobel.

" / haven't got it," said Claudia.

Lady Brandon and the Reverend Maurice Ffolliot eyed the
six of ua with cold severity.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 103

" Let us say nothing of the good taste displayed, either in
the act or in the denial," said the former, " but agree that
the brilliant joke has been carried far enough, shall we ? "

"Put the brilliant joke back, John/* said Augustus.
" You were the only one near it when the light went out."

" I have said that I didn't touch the sapphire," I replied.

" Suppose you put it back, Ghastly," said Digby, and his
voice had an edge on it.

" And suppose you do ! " blustered Augustus angrily.

Digby, who *was standing behind him, suddenly raised bis
right knee with sufficient force to propel the speaker in the
direction of the table an exhibition of ill manners and
violence that passed unrebuked by Aunt Patricia.

" I haven't got the beastly thing, I tell you," shouted the
smitten one, turning ferociously upon Digby. " It's one of
you three rotters."

It was an absurd situation, rapidly degenerating into an un-
pleasant one, and my aunt's lips were growing thinner, and her
eyebrows beginning to contract toward her high-bridged nose.

" Look here, sillies ! " said Isobel, as we brothers glared at
Augustus and he glared at us, "I am going to turn all the
lights out again for two minutes. Whoever played the trick,
and told the fib, is to put the ' Blue Water ' back. Then
no one will know who did it. See ? " and she walked away
to the door, by which were the electric-light switches.

" Now ! " she said. " Everybody keep still except the
villain, and when I switch the lights on again, there will be
the * Blue Water ' laughing at us."

" Oh, rot," said Augustus, and out went the lights before
Aunt Patricia or the Chaplain made any comment.

Now it occurred to me that it would be very interesting to
know who had played thia silly practical joke and told a silly
lie after it. I therefore promptly stepped towards the table,
felt the edge of it with my right hand and then, with a couple
of tentative dabs, laid my left hand on top of the glass dome.
Whoever came to return the sapphire must touch me, and
him I would promptly seize. I might not have felt so in-
terested in the matter had it not been twice pointed out that
it was I who stood against the table when the light failed.

104 BEAU GESTE

Isobel's device for securing the prompt return of the
sapphire was an excellent one, but I saw no reason why I
should linger under the suspicion of having been an ass and
a liar, for the benefit of Augustus.

So there I stood and waited.

While doing so, it occurred to me to wonder what would
happen if the joker did not have the good sense to take
advantage of the opportunity provided by Isobel. . . .

Perfect silence reigned in the big room.

" I can't do it, my boots creak, " said Digby suddenly.

" I can't find the cover," said Michael.

'* Another minute, villain," said Ifiobel. " Hurry up."

And then I was conscious that someone was breathing very
near me. I felt a faint touch on my elbow. A hand came
down lightly against my wrist and I grabbed.

My left hand was round a coat-sleeve, beneath which was
the stif! cuff of a dress shirt, and my right grasped a wrist,
I was very glad that it was a man's arm. ILid it been a girl's
I should have let go. Ghastly Gustus, of course. ... It was
just the silly sort of thing he would do, and it was just like
him to take advantage of the darkness, when ho found the
joke had fallen remarkably flat. I did not envy him the look
that would appear on Aunt Patricia's face when the light
went up and he was discovered in my grip.

I would have let him go, I think, had he not endeavoured
to put the blame on me, and insisted on my nearness to the
table when the light failed.

I was a little surprised that he did not struggle, and I was
prepared for a sudden violent twist and a swift evasion in
the dark.

He kept perfectly still.

" I am going to count ten, and then up goes the light. Are
you ready, villain ? " came the voice of Isobel from the door.

" Yes, I've put it back," said Digby.

" So have I," said Michael, close to me.

" And I," echoed Claudia.

Then Isobel switched on the light, and I found that my
hands were clenched on the right arm of my brother Michael !

I was more surprised than I can say.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 105

It was only a small matter, of course ; a pointless practical
joke and a pointless lie, but it was so utterly unlike Michael.
It was unlike him to do it, and more unlike him flatly to deny
having done it. And my surprise increased when Michael,
looking at me queerly, actually remarked :

4 * So it was me, John, was it ? Oh, Feeble Gcste ! "

I felt absurdly hurt, and turning to Augustus said, " I
apologise, Gussie. I admit I thought it was you."

"Oh, don't add insult to injury," he replied. " Put the
beastly thing back, and stop being a funny ass. Enough of
you is too much."

Put the beastly thing back! I turned and looked at the
cushion. It was empty still. I looked at Michael and Michael
looked at me.

" Oh, shove it back, Beau," I said. " It's all been most
extraordinarily clever and amusing, I'm sure. But I'm
inclined to agree with Gussie."

Michael gave me one of his long, thoughtful, penetrating
looks. " Il'in," said he.

Isobel came over from the door.

" I do think you might have played up, sillies," said she.
" Put it back, Beau, and let's have a dance. May we, Aunt ? "

" Certainly," said Aunt Patricia, " as soon as ever the great
humorist in our midst has received our felicitations," and
I really pitied the said humorist, when he should make his
avowal, annoyed with him as I felt.

The Chaplain looked from face to face of the six of us and
said nothing. Aunt Patricia did the same.

We all stood silent.

" Now stop this fooling," said she. " Unless the ' Blue
Water ' is produced at once, I shall be very seriously an-
noyed."

" Come on, somebody," said Digby.

Another minute's silence.

It began to grow unbearable.

" I am waiting," said Lady Brandon at last, and her foot
began to tap.

From that moment the matter became anything but a
joke, swiftly growing unpleasant and increasingly so.
4*

106 BEAU GE8TB

3.

1 shall not forget the succeeding hours in a hurry, and their
horrible atmosphere of suspicion seven people suspecting
one of the other seven, and the eighth person pretending to
do so.

My capable and incisive aunt quickly brought things to a
clear issue, upon getting no reply to her " I am waiting," and
her deliberate look from face to face of the angry and uncom-
fortable group around her.

" Maurice," said she to the Chaplain, laying her hand
upon his sleeve, her face softening and sweetening incredibly,
" come and sit by me until I have asked each of these young
people a question. Then I want you to go to bed, for it's
getting late," and she led him to a big and deep chesterfield
that stood on a low dais in a big window recess.

Seating herself with the air and presence of a queen on
a throne, she said, quietly and very coldly :

" This is getting serious, and unless it ends at once, the
consequences will be serious too. For the last time I ask the
boy, or girl, who moved the ' Blue Water/ to give it to me,
and we will end the silly business now and here, and make no
further reference to it. If not . . . Come, this is absurd and
ridiculous. . . ."

" Oh, come off it, John," said Augustus, " for God's
sake."

Nobody else spoke.

" Very well," said my aunt, " since the fool won't leave
his folly. . . . Come here, Claudia. . . . Have you touched
the * Blue Water ' since the Chaplain restored it to its place ? "
Bhe laid her hand on Claudia's arm, drew her close, and
looked into her eyes.

" No, Aunt. . . ."

" No, Aunt," said Claudia again.

" Of course nob," said Aunt Patricia. "Go to bed, dear.
Good night."

And Claudia departed, not without an indignant glance at
me.

" Come here, Isobel," continued my aunt. " Have you

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 107

touched the ' Blue Water * since the Chaplain put it back in
its place ? "

" No, Aunt, I have not/' replied Isobel.

" I am sure you have not. Go to bed. Good night," said
Lady Brandon.

Isobel turned to go and then stopped.

" But I might have done, Aunt, if the idea had occurred
to me," she said. " It is just a joke, of course."

" Bed," rejoined her aunt, and Isobel departed with a kind
glance at me.

Aunt Patricia turned to Augustus.

" Come here," she said coldly, and with a hard stare into
his somewhat shifty eyes. " Please answer absolutely truth-
fully for your own sake. If you have got the * Blue Water,'
and give it to me now, I shall not say another word about the
matter. Have you ? "

" I swear to God, Aunt ..." broke out Augustus.

" You need not swear to God, nor to me, Augustus," was
the cold reply. " Yes or No. Have you got it ? "

" No, Aunt ! I take my solemn oath I . . ." the unhappy
youth replied vehemently, when the cold voice interrupted :

" Have you touched the sapphire since the Chaplain put
it under its cover ? "

" No, Aunt. Really, I haven't 1 I assure you I ..."
began Augustus, to be again interrupted by the cold question :

" Do you know where the * Blue Water ' is now ? "

" No, Aunt," promptly replied he, " upon my soul I don't.
If I did, I'd jolly well . . ."

" John," said my aunt, without further notice of Augustus,
" do you know where the stone is ? "

" No, Aunt," I replied, and added, " nor have I touched
it since the Chaplain did."

She favoured me with a long, long look, which I was able
to meet quite calmly, and I hope not at all rudely. As I looked
away, my eyes met Michael's. He was watching me queerly.

Then came Digby's turn. He said quite simply and plainly
that he knew nothing about the jewel's disappearance and
had not touched it since it was passed to him by Claudia,
and handed on by him to Isobel.

108 BEAU GESTE

There remained Michael. He was the culprit, or else one
of us had told a most deliberate, calculated, and circum-
stantial lie, inexcusable and disgraceful.

I felt angrier with Michael than I had ever done in my
life, yet I waa angry rather for him than with him. It was so
uttoily unlike him to do such a stupid thing, and to allow all
this unpleasant and undignified inquisition to go on, when
a word from him would have ended it.

Why must my idol act as though he had feet of clay or,
at any rate, amear clay upon his feet ? Th6 joke was un-
worthy, but the lie was really painfully so.

I have no objection to the good thumping lie that is " a
very present help in time of trouble," told at the right time
and in the right cause (such as to save the other fellow's
bacon). But I have the strongest distaste for a silly lie that
merely gives annoyance to other people, and puts blame upon
an innocent person.

From the moment I had caught him in the act of trying
to return the jewel secretly, I had felt sick with indignation,
and literally and physically sick when, his effort frustrated
by me, he had pretended innocence and held on for another
opportunity of returning the thing unseen.

Had I not myself caught him in the very act, he was, of
all of us, the last person whom I should have suspected. He
and Isobel, that is to say. I should have strongly suspected
Augustus, and, his innocence established, I should have
supposed that Digby had fallen a victim to his incurable
love of joking --though I should have been greatly surprised.

Had Digby then been proved innocent, I am afraid 1
should have suspected Claudia of wishing to turn the lime-
light on herself by an innocently naughty escapade before
I should ever have entertained the idea of Michael doing it
and denying it.

Now that all had firmly and categorically declared their
absolute innocence and ignorance in the matter, I had no
option (especially in view of my catching him at the spot)
but to conclude that Michael had been what I had never
known him to be before a fool, a cad, and a liar.

I could have struck him for hurting himself so.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 109

" Michael," said Aunt Patricia very gravely, very coldly,
and very sadly, " I'm sorry. More so than I can tell you,
Michael. Please put the ' Blue Water ' back, and I will say
no more. But I doubt whether I shall feel like calling you
* Beau ' for some time."

" I can't put it back, Aunt, for I haven't got it," said
Michael quietly, and my heart bounded.

" Do you know where it is, Michael ? " asked my aunt.

" I do not, Aunt," waa the immediate reply.

" Have you touched the sapphire since the Chaplain did,
Michael ! " was the next question.

" I have not, Aunt," was the quiet answer.

" Do you know anything about its disappearance,
Michael ? " asked the hard level voice.

" I only know that / have had nothing whatever to do with
its disappearance, Aunt," answered my brother, and I was
aghast.

" Do you declare that all you have just said is the absolute
truth, Michael ? " waa the final question.

" I declare it to be the whole truth, and nothing but tho
truth," was the final answer.

What was I to think ? Certainly I could not think that
Michael waa lying. Equally certainly I could not forget that
I had caught his hand on the glass cover.

On the whole, if I had to doubt either Michael or the
evidence of my senses, I preferred to do the latter. When we
got out of that terrible room, I would go to him when he was
alone, and say, " Beau, old chap, just tell me you didn't
touch the thing and if you say you didn't, there's an
absolute end of it." And so there would be as far as I
was concerned. . . .

On hearing his last words, my aunt sat and stared at
Michael. The silence grew horrible. At length she began to
speak in a low frozen voice.

" This is inexpressibly vulgar and disgusting," she began.
c< One of half a dozen boys and girls, who have practically
grown up here, is a despicable liar and, apparently, a common

110 BEAU GESTE

thief or an uncommon one. I am still unable to think the
latter. . . . Listen. ... I shall leave the cover where it is
and I shall lock the doors of this room at midnight and keep
the keys, except the key of that one. Bring it to me, Digby. . . .
Thank you.

" This key I shall put in the old brass box on the ledge
above the fire-place in the outer hall. The servants will have
gone to bed and will know nothing of its whereabouts. I ask
the liar, who is present, to take the opportunity of returning
the sapphire during the night, relocking the door, and re-
placing the key in the brass box. If this is not done by the
time I come down to-morrow, I shall have to conclude that
the liar is also a thief, and act accordingly. For form's sake
I shall tell Claudia and Isobel."

" Come, Maurice," she added, rising and taking the Chap-
lain's arm. " I do hope you won't let this worry you, and
give you a sleepless night."

The poor Chaplain looked too unhappy, bewildered, and
bemused to speak.

Having locked two of the doors, Lady Brandon, followed
by the Chaplain, swept from the room without a " Good
night " to any of us.

I think we each heaved a sigh of relief as the door shut.
I certainly did.

And now, what ?

Digby turned upon Augustus.

" Oh, you unutterable cheese-mite," he said, apparently
more in sorrow than in anger. " I think de-bagging is indi-
cated. . . . And a leather belt," he added, " unless anyone's
pumps are nice and swishy."

I said nothing. It was not the hand of Augustus that I
had caught feeling for the cover.

He glared from one to the other of us like a trapped rat,
and almost shrieked as Digby seized him.

" You lying swine/' he shouted. " Who was by the table
when the light failed and came on again ? Who was grabbing
who, when Isobel turned it on ? "

I looked at Michael, and Michael looked at me.

"Yes," screamed Augustus seeingthe look, and wriggling free.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 111

" By Jove ! " said Digby, " if he pinched it, he's got it. ...
Come to my arms, Gus ! " and in a moment he was sitting
upon the prostrate form of the hysterically indignant youth,
and feeling the pockets of his dinner-jacket from the outside.

" Not in his breast-pockets . . . side . . . waistcoat . . .
trousers . . . no the beggar hasn't got it unless he has
swallowed it," announced Digby. Then ..." Might have
shoved it behind a cushion or dropped it somewhere. . . .
Come on, out with it, Gus, and let's get to bed."

" You filthy, lying, beastly cad," blubbered Augustus in
reply, showing the courage of the cornered rat.

I don't think he had ever defied or insulted cither of my
brothers before in his life.

I expected to see him promptly suffer grief and pain at their
hands, but Michael did the unexpected, as usual.

" Why, I believe the little man's innocent after all," he
said quite kindly.

" You krww I am, you damned hypocrite," shouted Augus-
tus. " Weren't you and John fumbling at the cover when
she turned the light on you cowardly blackguards."

Digby's hand closed on the scruil of the boy's neck.

"If I have accused you wrongly, Gussie, I'll humbly
apologise and make it up to you," said he. " But if we find
you did do it oh, my little Gussie . . . ! "

" And if you find it was Michael, or John, or yourself ! "
sneered the dishevelled and shaking Augustus.

Michael looked hard at me and I looked hard at him.

" Look here," said Digby, " presumably the thing is in the
room. Aunt wouldn't pinch her own jewel. The Chaplain
has no use for it nor for thirty thousand pounds. No one
supposes Isobel did it nor Claudia. That leaves us four, and
we haven't been out of the room. Come on, find it. Find it,
Gussie, and I'll swear that / put it there," and Digby began
throwing cushions from sofas and chairs, moving footstools,
turning up rugs, and generally hunting about, the while he
encouraged himself, and presumably Augustus, with cries of
" Good dog 1 ... Fetch 'em, boy ! . . . Seize 'em, Gussie !
. . . Sick 'em, pup 1 ... Worry 'im, Gus 1 " and joyful
barks.

112 BEAU GESTE

Michael and I searched methodically and minutely, until
it was perfectly clear that the " Blue Water " was not in the
room, unless far more skilfully concealed than would have
been possible in the dark and in the few minutes at the
disposal of anyone who wished to hide it.

" Well, that's that," said Digby at last. " We'd better
push ofi before Aunt comes down to lock the door. I don't
want to see her again to-night. Damned if I don't feel guilty
as soon as she looks at me."

" Perhaps you are I" snarled Augustus.

" You never know, do you ? " grinned Digby.

" Better tidy up a bit before we go,'* suggested Michael.
" Servants'll smell a rat if it's like this to-morrow."

" Smell a herd of elephants, I should think," answered
Digby, and we three straightened the disordered room, while
Augustus sullenly watched us, with an angry, bitter sneer,
and an occasional snarl of " Beastly humbugs," or, " Lying
hypocrites."

" Come to the smoking-room, you two ? " said Digby to
Michael and me, when we had finished.

" Yes go and fix it up, cads," urged Augustus.

" Go to bed, Ghastly," replied Digby, " and don't forget
the key will be in the brass box on the ledge over the fire-
place in the outer hall. Bung ofi."

" For two damns I'd sit in the hall all night, and see who
comes for it," was the reply, and the speaker glanced at me.

" Don't let me find you there, or I shall slap you," said
Digby.

" No, I shouldn't be popular if I went there now and
refused to budge, should I ? " was the angry retort.

" Lord 1 It's a long worm that has no turning," crypti-
cally remarked Digby, as Augustus took what was meant to
be a dignified departure. " And a long lane that has no
public-house," he added.

" Either that lad's innocent or he's a really accomplished
young actor," I observed,, looking after the retreating Augustus
,as we crossed the hall, where we said " Good night " to a
yawning footman, and made our way down a corridor to the
smoking-room.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 113

5.

" Well, my sons, what about it ? " said Michael, poking
up the fire, as we threw ourselves into deep leather arm-chairs
and produced pipes.

" Pretty go if the damned thing isn't there in the morning,"
said Digby.

" I wonder if she'd send to Scotland Yard ? " he added,
blowing a long cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

" Filthy business," said Michael. " Fancy a fat mystery-
merchant prowling about here and questioning everybody ! "

"What a lark!" chuckled Digby. " Jolly glad the
servants are out of it all right, poor beggars."

" Beastly vulgar business, as Aunt said," observed Michael.

" And a bit rough on her too apart from any question of
thirty thousand pounds," said I.

" Shake her faith a bit in human nature, what ? " said
Digby. " But, damn it the beastly thing will be there all
right in the morning."

" I hope to God it will," said I from the bottom of my heart,
and found that Michael and I were staring at each other again.

" Reconstruct the dreadful crime," suggested Digby.
" Wash out Aunt and the Chaplain."

" And the girls," said Michael. " If anyone even glanced
at the possibility of Claudia stealing, I'd wring his beastly
neck until he could see all down his beastly back."

" I'd wring the neck of anyone who even glanced at the
possibility of Isobel stealing until he hadn't a head to see
with," added Digby.

" Wouldn't it be too silly to be worth noticing at all ? "
I asked. I was thinking more particularly of Isobel.

" Let's go and beat young Gussie," said Digby.

" Gussie doesn't know a thing about it," said Michael;
" Nothing but genuine injured innocence would have given
him the pluck to call us ' Filthy liars/ and ' Damned hyTK>-
crites.' You know, if he'd been guilty, he'd have been con-
ciliatory, voluble, and tearfuloh, altogether different. A
much more humble parishioner."

" Believe you're right, Beau," agreed Digby. " Nothing

114 BEAU GESTE

like a sense of injustice to put you up on the bough. . . .
'Sides, young Gus hasn't the guts to pinch anything really
valuable. . . . And if he'd taken it for a lark and hadn't
been able to put it back, he'd have hidden it behind a cushion
till he could. I quite expected to find it in some such place.
That's why I gave him the chance. ... If he has got it,
he'll shove it back to-night/' he added.

" He hasn't," said Michael and again Michael and I
found ourselves looking at each other.

" Well that leaves us three then," said I.

" It does," said Michael.

" You can count me out, old son," grinned Digby. " Search
me."

" Which reminds one, by the way, that we didn't search
ourselves, or each other, when we searched Gussie," said 1.
" It would have been fairer . . ."

" Most undignified and unnecessary," put in Michael.

" So Gussie seemed to find," chuckled Digby.

" Then that leaves you and me, John," said Michael.

" Yea, it leaves me arid you, Beau," I agreed, and again
we stared at each other.

" I did not take the ' Blue Water/ Beau/' I Baid.

" Nor did 7, John," said Michael.

" Then there's a mis-deal somewhere," remarked Digby,
" and Gusflie must have done it. Anyhow it'll be put back
in the night. Must be."

" What do you say to our sitting here until we hear some-
body come down to the hall ? That door always makes a
frightful row," I suggested.

" Certainly not," said Michael sharply.

" Why not ? " I asked, eyeing him.

" Why, you ass, it might not be ... I mean we might . . .
Anyhow, we've no right to interfere with Aunt's arrange-
ments. She has given the person a chance . . ."

Michael was by no means fluent. He turned to Digby.

" Don't you think so, Dig ? " he asked.

" Any ass can sit up who wants to," was the prompt reply.
41 1 have had enough of to-day, myself. Who's coming up ? "
He rose and yawned.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 115

" I say," he chuckled, " what a lark to pinch the key and
hide it."

" Don't be a fool," said Michael. " Let's go to bed," and
we went with our usual curt " Good nights." . . .

But it was easier, for me at least, to go to bed than to go
to sleep, although my brain seemed somewhat numbed and
dulled. I lay and tossed and turned, refusing to believe that
Michael had done this disgusting thing, and unable, some-
how, to believe that Augustus had. It did not occur to me
to doubt DigLy and, as I have said, I should never have
dreamt of doubting Michael, had I not caught him.

Leaving out Aunt Patricia, the Chaplain, Digby, and
Augustus, there remained Isobel, Claudia, Michael, and I.
Eliminating Isobel, there remained Claudia, Michael, and I.
It could not be Claudia. How could it be Michael ?

Had I done it myself ?

Such was my mental condition by tliis time that I actually
entertained the idea. I had read a book not so long before,
in which, after a most tremendous mystery and bother, it
turned out that the innocent hero had committed the crime
while in a somnambulistic condition.

That could not apply in my case, of course. . . . There
was no question or possibility of sleep-walking or trance
about it but might I not, absolutely unconsciously or sub-
consciously, have put the thing in my pocket without knowing
it ? People undoubtedly did do absurd things in fits of absent-
mindedness, to their subsequent incredulous astonishment.
I had never done such things myself but might I not have
begun doing them now ? It was certainly as possible as it
was utterly improbable. I actually got up and searched my
clothes.

Of course I found nothing, and hour after hour of cogitation
and reiterated argument brought me nearer and nearer to the
conclusion that either Augustus or Michael was the culprit.

Having repeatedly arrived at this inevitable point, I
delivered myself of the unhelpful verdict, " Augustus or
Michael guilty. And I believe Augustus isn't, and Michael
couldn't be/"

Anyhow, daylight would find the wretched stone back in

116 BEAU GESTB

its place, and the whole business would be merely a very
unsatisfactory and annoying puzzle, until it faded from the
memories of the eight people who knew of it.

t turned over and made another resolute effort to go to
sleep a foolish thing to do, as it is one of the best ways of
ensuring wakefulness.

My mind went off on a new tack. Suppose the " Blue
Water " were not put back during the night ? What exactly
would happen ?

One thing would be clear at any rate that' a determined
effort was being made to steal the jewel, by somebody who
intended to convert it into money.

Certainly Lady Brandon, that niaitresse femme, was not
the person to accept that " lying down," and she would surely
take precisely the same steps for its recovery that she would
have taken had it been stolen by burglars or a servant. She
would communicate with the police, and see that no one left
the house until the matter was in official hands.

It would be inexpressibly unpleasant and degrading. I
imagined the questioning, the searching, the loathsome sense
of being under suspicion even Isobel and Claudia. At
four o'clock in the morning the whole affair looked unutterably
beastly.

And then I pulled myself together. Of course it would be
all right. The idiot who had played the fool trick, and been
too feeble to own up, would have replaced the jewel. Prob-
ably it was there now. The said idiot would have been only
too anxious to get rid of it as soon as Aunt Patricia had
put the key in the brass box. . . , W r hy not go and make
sure ?

Of course and then one could put the silly business out
of one's mind and get some sleep.

I got out of bed, pulled on my dressing-gown, and put my
feet into bedroom slippers. Lighting one of the emergency
candles which stood on the mantelpiece, I made my way down
the corridor to the upper of the two galleries that ran round
the four sides of the central hall, and descended the stairs
that led to the gallery below, and thence to the hall. Crossing
this, I entered the outer hall, avoided the protruding hand

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 117

and sword-hilt of a figure in armour, and made my silent way
to the big stone fire-place.

On the broad shelf or mantelpiece, some six feet from the
ground, was the ancient brass box, dating from the days of
pack-horse travel, in which my aunt had placed the key.

Only she hadn't or someone had removed it for the box
was quite empty !

Was this a trap, a trick of Lady Brandon's to catch the
guilty one ? Justly or unjustly, I thought she was quite
capable of it.*

If so, presumably I was caught again in this indiscriminating
trap that another should have adorned. I was reminded of
the occasion many years before, when she suddenly entered
the schoolroom and said, " The naughty child that has been
in the still-room has got jam on its chin/' and my innocent
and foolish hand promptly went up to my face to see if, by
some wild mischance, it were jammy.

Well the best thing to do now was to fade swiftly and
silently away ere the trap closed ; and I turned, wondering
whether Aunt Patricia were watching.

That was an absurd idea, of course.

Then I wondered if the box contained some scent of in-
delible odour, which would betray the guilty hand that had
come in contact with it.

Equally absurd.

As I crossed the hall, I also thought of finger-prints.

Had she polished the lid and front of the box with the
intention of having it examined by experts for the identifica-
tion of the owner of the fingers that touched it during the
night ? Less absurd, perhaps, but utterly improbable. Such
an idea might have occurred to her had it been certain that
the " Blue Water " was really stolen by a thief who had
meant to get away with it.

And supposing that were really the case, and the jewel
were not replaced during the night ?

There were my finger-prints, anyhow, if she had really
thought of this plan ! And there they were if it occurred to
her later, in the event of the sapphire not being restored.
I re-entered the central hall not more than half a minute

118 BEAU GESTE

later than I had left it and saw someone coming toward me.
He, or she, carried no light, and, of course, could identify
me, the candle being just in front of my face.

" Well, Gussie," said I. " Cold morning/'

" Well, John. Looking for the key ? " said the voice of
my brother Michael.

" Yes, Beau," I answered. " It's not there."

" No, John," said Michael quietly. " It's here," and he
held it out towards me.

" Beau ! " I said miserably.

" John I " he mocked me.

A wave of sick disgust passed over me. What had come
over my splendid brother ?

" Good night," I said, turning away.

" Or morning," replied Michael, and, with a short laugh,
he went into the outer hall.

I heard him strike a match and there followed the rattle
of the key and the clang of a falling lid. He had evidently
thrown the key carelessly into the box, and dropped the lid
without any attempt at avoiding noise.

I went back to bed and, the affair being over and the
mystery solved, fell into a broken sleep.

6.

I was awakened at the usual time by David, the under-
footrnan, with my hot water.

" Half- post seven, sir," said he ; "a fine morning when
the mist clears."

" Thank you, David," I replied, and sat up.

What was wrong ? Of course that idiotic affair of last
night, and Michael's heavy fall from his pedestal. Well,
there are spots on the sun, and no man is always himself.
Why dwell on one fault rather than on a hundred virtues ?
But it was unlike Michael to tell such silly pointless lies to
cover a silly pointless trick.

I dressed and went downstairs, taking a mashie and a ball
from the glory-hole, a small room or large cupboard off the
corridor that leads to the smoking-room. I would do a few

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 119

approach-shots from the tennis-courts to the paddock and
back, before the breakfast-gong went at half-paet eight.

Crossing the rose-garden I ran into Claudia. This surprised
me, for she was more noted for being the last arrival at break-
fast than for early rising. It struck me that she looked seedy
and worried, and she was certainly deep in some unpleasant
slough of thought when she saw me.

As she did so, her face cleared and brightened, rather too
suddenly and artificially, I thought.

" Hullo, early worm," said she.

" Hullo, early bird," I replied. " What's up ! "

" What do you mean ? " asked Claudia.

" I thought you looked a bit oil colour and bothered,"
replied I, with masculine tactlessness.

" Rubbish," said Claudia, and passed on.

I dropped my ball at the back of the tennis-courta, and
strove in vain to smite it. I scooped generous areas of turf
from the lawn, topped my ball, sliced it into a holly bush,
threw my club after it, and slouched oil, my hands deep in
my pockets and anger (with Michael) deep in my soul.

Returning to the house I saw Burden crossing the hall,
the gong-stick in his hand. The brass box leered ftt me
cynically as I passed.

Having washed my hands in the lavatory by the glory-hole,
I went into the dining-room.

The fire was blazing merrily, a silver kettle was simmering
on its spirit-stand on the table, a delicious smell came from
the sideboard, where three or four covered silver dishes sat
on their metal platform, beneath which burnt spirit-lamps.
The huge room with its long windows, looking on two sides
to the loveliest view in Devon ; its great warm-tinted Turkey
carpet hiding most of the ancient oak floor ; its beautifully
appointed table, flooded with sunshine ; its panelled walls
and arched ceiling was a picture of solid, settled comfort,
established and secure.

Digby was wandering about the room, a plate of porridge
i i one hand, and a busy spoon in the other. Augustus was
at the sideboard removing cover after cover, and adding
sausages to eggs and rashers of bacon.

120 BEAU GESTE

" Good effort, Gus," said Digby, eyeing the piled mass as
he passed him with his empty porridge plate. " Shove some
kedgeree on top."

" Had it," said Augustus. " This is going on top of the
kedgeree."

4< Stout citizen," approved Digby, getting himself a clean
plate.

Isobel was sitting in her place, and I went to see what I
could get for her.

As I stood by her chair she put her left hand up to mine
and gave it a squeeze.

"I'll wait for Aunt Patricia, John," she said.

Michael came in.

11 Aunt come down ? " he asked, and added a belated
'' 'Morning, everybody."

" No," replied Digby. " Watch me gobble and go. Tin
not meeting Aunt till tho day's been aired a bit."

" Claudia down yet ? " enquired Michael, ignoring him.

" I saw her in the garden," I said.

" I'll tell her breakfast's ready," he observed, rising and
going out.

" Take her a kidney on a fork," shouted Digby, as the door
closed.

We sat down, and conversation was in abeyance for a few
minutes in favour of the business of breakfast.

" I suppose the Grown Jewels are all present and correct
by now ? " said Digby suddenly, voicing what was uppermost
in all our thoughts. " Door's still locked. I tried it."

" Of course it's all right," I said.

" Seen it ? " asked Augustus.

" Or was it too dark ? " he added, with a sneer.

" No I haven't seen it," I replied. " But of course, it's
there all right."

" You should know, of course," said Augustus.

" Shut it, Ghastly," said Digby, " or I'll have your break-
fast back."

" You're a coarse lout, Digby," remarked Augustus calmly.

" 'Streuth ! " murmured Digby to the world in general.
" Isn't the gentleman's courage coining on ? "

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 121

It struck me that it was. I had never known Augustus so
daring, assured, and insolent before. I felt more and more
convinced that, as Michael had said, nothing but genuine
injured innocence and a sense of injustice could have v. ought
tliis change.

The door opened, and Claudia, followed by Michael, entered.
She looked very white and Michael very wooden and bcntfonnti.
I saw Isobel give her a sharp glance as she sat down and said i

" 'Morning . . . Aunt not been down yet ? "

" No, no. Gobble and go. If asked about sapphires, say
you don't know," chanted Digby, beating time with a spoon
on his cup.

Michael foraged at the sideboard for Claudia, and then
went to the coflee-table. I watched his face as he took the
coffee-pot and milk- jug from their tray and held them poised
one in each hand, over the cup. His face woe perfectly
inscrutable and his hands absolutely steady but I knew
there was something very wrong.

He looked up and saw me watching him.

" 'Morning, bun-face," quoth he. "Sleep well ? "

" Except for one unpleasant dream, Beau," T replied.

" H'm," said Michael, and I tried to analyse the sound, bul
found it as non-committal as his face.

He returned to his place beside Claudia, and as he seated
himself, Aunt Patricia entered the room.

We rose, and I drew back her chair, and then we stood
petrified in a complete silence.

One look at her face was sufficient, as she stopped half-
way from the door. I knew before she spoke almost the
words she was going to say.

" I have come to request that none of you none of you
leave the house to-day," she said. " Unless, that is, one of
you cares to say, even now at the eleventh hour, ' A fool and
a liar I am, but a criminal I am not ! ' "

No one spoke or moved. I looked at Michael and he at me.

" No ? " continued Lady Brandon. " Very well. But
please understand that if I go out of this room without the
' Blue Water,' I will have no mercy. The thief shall pay a
thief's penalty whoever it may be."

122 BEAU GESTE

She paused and fixed her coldly angry gaze on me, on
Augustus, on Michael, on Digby, on Isobel, on Claudia.

No one spoke or moved, and for a full minute Lady Brandon
waited.

" Ah I " Raid she at last, and then, " One other thing please
note very carefully. The servants know nothing of this, and
they are to know nothing. We will keep it to ourselves aa
long as possible, of course that one of you six is a treacherous,
ungrateful lying thief."

And then Michael spoke :

" Say one of us four, please, Aunt Patricia/'

" Thank you, Michael," she replied cuttingly. " You four
are among the six. And I will apply to you when I need the
help of your wisdom in choosing rny words."

" 1 think you might say * one of you three brothers,' " Augus-
tus had the audacity to remark.

" Hold your miserable tongue," was Lady Brandon's dis-
couraging reply.

"As I was saying," she continued, " the servants are to
know nothing and neither is anybody else. Until, of course,
the police-court reporters have the story, and the newspapers
are adorned with the portrait of one of your faces."

Once again her scornful glance swept us in turn, this time
beginning with Michael and going on to Augustus.

" Very well, then," she went on. " No one leaves the house,
and no one breathes a word of this to anyone but the eight
people who already know of it . . ."

" Except to a detective or the police, of course," she added,
with an ominous note and a disdainful edge to her voice.
" The Chaplain is ill," she concluded, " and I don't wonder
at it."

She turned and walked to the door. Before opening it,
she faced us once again.

" Have you anything to say Michael ? " ehe asked.

" Leave the girls out of it and Augustus," he replied.

" Have you anything to say, Digby ? "

" No, Aunt. Awful sorry, and all that," replied Digby,
and I seemed to see his lips forming the words, " No, no.
Gobble and go. . . , M

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 123

" John ! M and she looked even more disdainful, I
thought.

" No, Aunt except that I agree with Michael, very
strongly," I answered

" Augustus 1 "

" It's a damned shame . . ." blustered Augustus.

" Very helpful," Lady Brandon cut him short with cruel
contempt.

" Claudia ! "

" No, Aunt.

" Isobel "

" No, Aunt," answered Isobel. " But please, please wait
another day and ..."

" . . . And give the thief time to dispose of it, wore you
going to say f " interrupted Aunt Patricia.

She opened the door.

" Then that is all, is it ? " she asked. " No one has any-
thing to say ! . . . Very well ! " and she went out, closing
the door quietly behind her.

7.

" I hate skilly and loathe picking oakum, don't you,
Ghastly 1 " remarked Digby conversationally, as wo stared
at each other in utter consternation.

" You foul, filthy, utter cads," spluttered Augustus, looking
from Digby to me and then to Michael.

" Cuts no ice, Gus. Shut it," said Michael, in a perfectly
friendly voice, and added, " Run along and play if you can't
be serious. . . . Come with me, John," and turning to the
girls, said, " Do me a favour, Queen Claudia and Faithful
Hound."

" Of course," said Isobel.

"What is it?" asked Claudia.

" Put this wretched business out of both your minds, by
means of my absolute assurance and solemn promise that it
will be settled and cleared up to-day."

" How ? " asked Claudia.

" Oh, Michael, dear ! " said Isobel, and glanced at me.

" Never mind how, for the minute, Claudia," replied

124 BEAU GE8TB

Michael M Just believe and rest assured. Before you go
to bed to-night, everything will be as clear as crystal."

" Or as blue as sapphire," said Digby, and added, " By
Jove I I've got an idea ! A theory ! . . . My dog Joss got
alarmed at the sudden darkness, jumped on a chair to avoid
tlie crush, wagged his tail to show faith and hope, knocked
over the cover, reversed his engine, and smelt round to see
what he'd done, found nothing and yawned in boredom and
inhaled the ' Blue Water/ "

" Perhaps he was thirsty and drank the ' Blue Water ' ? "
amended Isobcl.

" Both very sound theories. Sounder still if Joss had been
in the room," said Michael. " Come, John. 1 '

I followed my brother out into the hall. He led the way
to his room.

" Take a pew, Johnny. I would hold converse with thea
on certain dark matters," he said as we entered.

Having locked the door, he put his tobacco-jar on the low
table beside the low arm-chair in which I was sitting.

" You leave the carbon cake too long in your pipes," he
said. " That's what cracks them. Unequal expansion of the
carbon and tho wood, I suppose. You ought to scrape it
out once a month or so."

He seated himself opposite to me and sprawled in the low
chair, with his knees higher than his head.

" Oh, I like a well-caked pipe," I replied. " Nuttier and
cooler."

" Ah, well I So long as you can afford to crack your pipes,"
he said lazily, and sat silent for a minute or two.

I was quite under his spell again, and had to keep whipping
my feelings up into a state of resentment and disgust to main*
tain them in the condition that common justice demanded.
If he were going to restore the sapphire that evening as he
had hinted, why on earth couldn't he have done it just now ?
Vor the matter of that, why on earth couldn't he have re-
turned it last night when he went to the drawing-room ?
Why had he ever denied taking the thing at all ?

" Well, son, what about it ? " he said suddenly.

" Yes, what about it, Beau ? " I replied.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 125

He looked at me quizzically.

" What's the game, should you think, Johnny ! " he asked.

" That's what I want to know," I answered. " It seems
a damned silly one, anyhow."

" Quite," agreed Michael. " Quite very. Very quite,
And a little rough on the girls and our good Augustus."

" Exactly," said 1. " And on Aunt Patricia."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

" Well ? " said Michael, at length.

" Oh, put it back, Beau," I implored. " God alone knows
what you're playing at 1 Do you? "

Michael sat up and stared at me.

" Oh ? You say ' Put it back, 3 do you, John ! " he said
slowly and thoughtfully.

" I do," I replied. " Or look here, Beau. Aunt thinks a
lot of you, and devilish little of me. It would be doing her
a real kindness not to let her know it was you after all. Give
it here, and I'll ..." I coloured and felt a fool.

" Eric, or Little by Little. A Story of School Life. . . ,
The Boy with the Marble Brow," murmured Michael, smiling.
But his voice was very kind. . . .

" This grows interesting, Johnny," ho went on. " If I go
and fetch the * Blue Water ' now, will you take it to Aunt
Patricia and say, * Alone I did it. I cannot tell a lie. It is a
far, far better thing I do . . . ? "

" Those very words, Beau," I grinned. " On condition
you tell me what the game was, and why you did such a
damned silly thing."

Thank God the wretched business was going to endand
yet, and yet ... I felt quite sure that Michael would not
let me take the blame much as I would have preferroxl that
to the wretched feeling of our Michael being the object of
Aunt Patricia's scorn and contempt. The more she liked
him and approved him now, the more would she dislike and
despise him then. She might forbid him the house.

Michael rose.

" You really will ? " he asked. " If I go and get it now,
you'll take it straight to Aunt Patricia and say you pinched
it for a lark ? "

126 BEAU GESTE

" Only too glad of the chance, Beau," I answered. " To
get the beastly business over and done with and forgotten
and the girls and Gussie and Digby out of the silly mess."

" H'm," said Michael, sitting down. " You would, eh ? "

" And might I ask you a question or two, John f " he
went on.

" What were you doing with your hand on the glass cover
when I put my hand on it last night ? "

" Waiting to catch the ass that was returning the ' Blue
Water/ " I replied.

" Il'm ! Why did you want to catch him ? "

" Because 1 had twice been accused of the fool trick just
because I was standing close to the table when the light
failed/'

" So you were, too. . . . And what were you doing down-
stairs last night when I found you in the hall ? "

" Looking for the key, Beau, as I told you," I answered.

" And what did you want the key for ? "

" To sec whether the sapphire had been put back and to
get some peace of mind and sleep, if it had/'

" Did you go into the drawing-room ? "

" No," I answered.

" Why not ? "

" What ru-ed ? I took it for granted that you had returned
it," replied I.

" ITm I " said Michael. " Suppose a vote were taken
among the eight of us, as to who is likeliest to be the thief,
who do you suppose would top the poll 1 "

" Augustus/* I stated promptly.

" Do you think he is the culprit ? " asked my brother.

" No, I do not," I replied significantly.

" Nor I," answered the enigmatic Michael. " In fact, I
know he's not."

He sat silent, smoking reflectively for a few minutes.

" Go through the list," he said suddenly. " Would Aunt
pinch her own jewel ? "

" Hardly," said I.

" Would the Chaplain ? "

4< Still less/' said I.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 127

" Would Claudia ? " he asked nexir almost anxiously, I
fancied (absurdly, no doubt).

" Don't be a fool," I replied.

" Would Isobel ? "

" Don't be a cad," I said.

" Would Digby ? "

" Utterly preposterous and absurd," I answered.

" Would Augustus ? "

" I feel certain that he didn't anyhow," I answered.

" Would you 1 ? "

" I didn't, as it happens," I assured him.

" Would I ? "

" I should have thought you almost tho last person in the
world, Beau," I assured him.

" Looks as though I did it then, doesn't it * " he asked.
" Because if Augustus and Digby and you didn't do it who
the devil did, if I didn't ? Yes it looks as though I am the
thief."

" It does to me only though. Nobody else knows that I
found you downstairs," I said. " Why didn't you put it back
then, Beau ? " I asked.

" Wish I had," he said.

There came a bang at the door.

" Who's there ? " cried Michael.

" Me," bawled the ungrammatical Digby.

Michael unlocked the door.

" What's up ? " he asked.

" Isobel wants to speak to us three. She's been looking
for you two. A thought has struck her. Blow severe but not
fatal. All about the Painful Event. . . ."

" Where is she ? " asked Michael.

" I said I'd lead you by the ear to the smoking-room at
an early date unless either of you had done a bunk with
the loot," replied Digby.

" Well I haven't fled yet, but I shall want a Bradshaw
after lunch," said Michael, adding, " Let's go and hear
IsobePs great thought. Generally worth hearing."

We went downstairs and made our way to the smoking-
room. The brass box caught my eye, and an idea also struck

128 BEAU GE8TE

me with some violence, as I noticed that the lid and front
seemed brighter than the rest of it.

" Don't expose me yet, John," said Michael as we crossed
the hall.

" John been catching you out ? " asked Digby.

" Caught mo last night, didn't you, John ? " replied Michael.

" Red-handed," said I.

" It's blue-handed that Aunt wants to cop someone," said
Digby, opening the door of the smoking-room. " Sapphire-
blue."

Inobt'I was sitting by the fire looking tearful and depressed.
It was at me that sho looked as we entered.

" (/aught thorn both in the act of bolting, Isobol," said
Digby. "They've each got a half of the * Blue Water'
about a pint apiece. But they are willing to hear your words
if you are quick."

" Oh, I am so miserable-," moaned Isobel. " I have been
such a wicked, wicked beast. But I can't bear it any longer."

41 Lrave it with us, dear," said Digby, " and forget it.
We'll smuggle it back, and share Aunt's few well-chosen
words among us, won't we, Beau ? "

" What's the trouble, child ? " asked Michael.

"I've let Augustus take the blame all this time," she
sobbed.

" Didn't notice him taking any," observed Digby. " Must
be a secret blame-taker, I suppose."

" Augustus is perfectly innocent and I could have proved
it, the moment Aunt began to question us last night. A word
from ino would have saved him from all suspicion and I
never said it," she went on.

44 Why, dear ? " I asked her.

" Oh, I don't know. . . . Yes, I do. It would have lookod
like exculpating myself too," she replied. " Besides, I didn't
know who had done it. And it was more or less of a silly
practical joke last night. . . . And, of course, I thought the
person who had taken it would say so, or at least put it back.
But now it's awful. And I can't keep quiet any longer.
I thought I'd tell you three before I told Aunt."

44 Well what is it, Faithful Hound ? " asked Michael.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 129

" Why, when the light went out you know I said, * Ghosts
and goblins and skeleton hands' or something ? Well, I half
frightened myself and half pretended, and I clutched some-
body's arm. When the light went up I found it was Augustus
I was hugging and let go so quickly that nobody noticed,
I suppose."

" That settles it," said Digby. " It wasn't poor Gussie."
" Couldn't have been," he added, " unless those two were
one and did it together."

" Don't be an ass, Dig," I said, for poor Isobel was really
upset about it.

" Oh, never ! " said Digby. " Absolutely never ! "

" Well I like our Augustus all the better for not having
adduced this bit of evidence himself," said I.

" Bless the dear boy," said Digby, " and I searched all his
little pockets. I must find him and forgive him."

" Have you told Claudia this ? " asked Michael.

" Yes," replied Isobel. " But she seems to think that I
may have been mistaken."

" Which is absurd, of course," she added.

" Well friend Gussie ought to be much obliged to you,
both for hanging on to him in the dark, and for remembering
it, Isobel," said Michael.

" Yes," chimed in Digby, " now he can bark and wag his
tail and gambol around the feet of Aunt Patricia, while we
walk in outer darkness."

" Tell her at once and get it of! your conscientious chest,
Isobel," said I.

She looked at me long and miserably, almost apologetically
I thought, and went out of the room.

" Say, citizens," said Digby as the door closed, " what I
want to know is this. Who pinched this here gem we're being
bothered about ? Officious and offensive fella, I consider
but Gussie now being out of it, it must be one of us three. . . .
Excuse my mentioning it then, but me being out of it, it
must be one of you two. Now unless you really want the
damned thing, I say, ' Put it back. 1 "

Michael and I once again looked at each other, Michael's
face being perfectly expressionless.
5

130 BEAU GESTB

" I think of bolting with it, as I told Isobel just now," said
Michael.

" John going with his half too ? " asked Digby.

" No," replied Michael for me. " I'm taking it all."

" Well, old horse," said Digby, looking at his watch,
" could you go soon after lunch ? I want to run up to town
to see a man about a dog, and Aunt seems to have other
views for us until the matter is cleared up."

"Do my boat to oblige," said Michael, as I quietly slipped
from the room to carry out the idea which had occurred to
me as I crossed the hall.

I went to the brass box. Finger-prints were very faintly
discernible on its highly-polished lid and front. Going to
the wash-basin in the room opening oil the neighbouring
corridor, I damped my handkerchief, and rubbed soap,
hard, on the wet surface. The hall was still empty when
I returned, and I promptly began scouring the lid and front
of the box.

It was easier, however, to remove the finger-marks than
to remove the signs of their removal. I did not wish it to bo
obvious that someone had been doing what I was doing.

Under a heavy curtain, in a recess in the panelling, hung
overcoats, caps, mufflers, and such outdoor garments. A
silk scarf of Digby's struck me as being just the thing I wanted.

I had restored to the box the brilliance which had been its
before I soaped it, and was giving it a final wipe with the
silk, when the door from the corridor swung open, Michael
entered, and T was caught in the act.

And then I saw that in his hand was a piece of wash-
leather and a silver-duster, presumably purloined from the
butler's pantry !

" Ah ! " he said. " Removing all traces of the crime ? "

" All I hope, Beau," I replied.

" Sound plan too," he observed. " Just going to do it
myself," and he passed on.

Having finished my task, I placed the fingers of my right
hand on top of the box, my thumb on the front, and left as
fair and clear a set of finger-prints as I could contrive.

How could it possibly matter to me if a detective identified

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 131

them as mine ? I hadn't taken the " Blue Water/* and
nobody could prove that I had.

And why was Michael so anxious that his finger-marks
should not be found there as a piece of evidence to be coupled
with the fact that I had been seen holding his wrist, above
the glass cover, when the lights were turned on ?

I went up to iny room despairing, and trying to recall
what I had read, somewhere, about the method of examining
finger-prints. I believe they blow a fine powder on to them
and then apply 6arbon-paper or tissue-paper, and take a photo-
graph of the result.

Anyhow, if Aunt had been wily enough to polish the box,
just where we would touch it, so that she could get the finger-
prints of the person who opened it, she'd get mine all right
and those of nobody else, when the detectives came.

8.

Aunt Patricia did not appear at lunch, nor did Claudia.
The Chaplain was still ill in bed.

As Burdon and a footman always waited at that ineal,
there was no general conversation on the one subject of interest
to us all.

It was a painful meal, to me at any rate, though Digby
seemed perfectly happy, and Michael unconcerned. The
only reference to the theft was during a brief absence of the
servants.

" Did you tell Aunt what you proposed to tell her ? What
did she say ? " asked Michael of Isobel.

" Yes. . . . She said, somewhat cryptically, * Virtue is its
own reward? and nothing else," replied Lsobcl.

" Gussie," said Digby, " Isobel has one cannot say
* bearded ' of a lady let us say faced Aunt Patricia in her
wrath, in order to tell her that you must be absolutely innocent
of sin, and quite above or beneath suspicion/'

" What do you mean ? " snarled Augustus.

" She very kindly went to the lioness's den," continued
Digby, " to say that B!IC seized you and hung on to you last
night while the lights were out and that, therefore, you could

132 BEAU GESTB

not possibly have gone to the table and pinched the sapphire,
as she was hanging on to your arm. I sincerely apologise to
you, Gussie, and hope you'll forgive me."

" My arm ? " said Augustus, in deep and genuine surprise
ignoring the apology, and quickly adding, " Oh, yes er of
course. Thanks, Isobel."

We all looked at him. I had been watching him when he
ppoke, and to me his surprise was perfectly obvious.

" Then Aunt knows 7 didn't do it ? " he said.

" Yes, Gussie," Isobel assured him, " and I'm awfully
sorry I didn't say it, at once, last night."

" Yes I thought you might have done so," replied our
Augustus.

" Isobel is not so keen on exculpating herself too, you
Bee," said I, glaring at the creature. " // she were holding
your arm, she could not have gone to the table herself. Proving
your innocence proves her own."

" Well she might have thought of me," he grumbled.

" She has, Gussie," said Michael ; " we shall all think of
you, I'm sure. . . . Anyhow, we are all sorry we were unkind
and suspicious."

" Suspicious ! You / " said Augustus. " Huh ! "

" Yes and I'm sorry I searched you, Ghastly," put in
Digby. . . . "I'll unsearch you by and by, if you're not
careful," he added.

And then David and Burdon came in with the next
course.

After lunch, feeling disgruntled and miserable, I went along
to the billiard-room, to knock the balls about, ae one could not
very well leave the house in face of Lady Brandon's request.

Augustus was before me and I turned to retreat. I was in
no mood to suffer Augustus gladly.

" Police come yet ? " he jeered.

" No you're safe for the present," I replied.

" You heard what Isobel said at lunch," he squealed.

" Yes," said I, going out, " you could hardly believe your
ears, could you 1 " and I am afraid that the anger that I
felt was almost entirely due to my conviction that he was
absolutely innocent. Isobel could not very well be mistaken.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE "BLUE WATER" 133

I supposed that Augustus must have quite forgotten the inci-
dent until Isobel mentioned it, or else had never noticed it
at all. Certainly that was far more probable, than that
Isobel had made a mistake as to whom she had clutched in
the darkness, especially as she did not leave go until the
lights came on and started us all blinking at each other.

I went up to my bedroom, feeling deadly tired after my
wakeful night and all the worry, and threw myself on iny
bed.

I was awakened from a heavy sleep by the entrance of
Digby, a couple of hours later. He held a letter in his hand.

" Hi, hog," quoth he, " wake up and listen. . . . Latest
edition," and he sat himself down heavily on the foot of the
bed.

" What's up now ? " I yawned, rubbing my eyes.

" We've got to use our wits and do something to help
Beau. Show the mettle of our pastures and all that. . . .
Beau's done a bunk. Left this note with David. Says ho
pinched the ' Blue Water/ and isn't going to face the police."

" What ? " I cried.

" Read it," said Digby, and passed the letter to mo.

" My char Dig" it ran, " 7 have told David to give you this
at four o'clock, by which time, I shall be, well on my way to
where 1 am going. Will you please tell Aunt that there is no
further need to chivvy any of you about the ' Blue Water. 9 If
the police come or a mystery -merchant from Scotland Yard, tell
them that you knew that I was in sore straights or is it straits
(or crookeds ?) for money, but that you think that this is my
first offence and I must have been led away by bad companions
(you and John, of course). KEEP an eye on young John, and
tell him I hope he'll be a good boy. If I send you an address
later, it will be in absolute confidence, and rdyinsj wholly on your
utterly refusing to give it to ANYBODY, for any reason whatsoever.
I do hope tJiat things will settle down quickly and quietly, now
that the criminal is known , Sad, sad, sad ! Give my love to
Claudia.

Ever thine 9

Michael."

134 BEAU GESTE

" It can't be true," I said. " It's impossible."

" Of course it is, fat-head," replied Digby. " He's off on
the romantic tack. Taking the blaiae and all that. , . *
Shielding hi a little brother. . . ."

" Which ? " I asked. " You ? "

" No," said Digby.

"Me?" tasked.

" Subtle mathematician," observed Digby

" But I didn't do it," I said.

" Nor did I," said Digby, and added, " Let's say 'Taking
the blame and thinking he's shielding his little brother '
then."

" But, Dig," I expostulated, " do you think Beau seriously
supposes for one moment that you or I would steal a valuable
Jewel and from Aunt Patricia of all people ? "

" Somebody has stolen it, haven't they ? " said Digby.
" And I tell you what, my lad," he added ; " you say that
Beau would never seriously suppose that you or I would steal
it but you yourself seriously supposed that Beau had 1 "

" How do you know ? " I asked, aghast.

" By the way you looked at him oh, half a dozen times."

" I had reason to suspect him," I said.

" What reason except that you caught hold of his wrist
in the dark, when he was probably doing just what you were
doing, trying to catch Gussie in the act of putting it back ? "
asked Digby.

" I'd rather not say any more about it, Dig," I replied,
" It's Beau's business after all, and ..."

" Don't be a colossal ass," interrupted Digby. " Of course
it's Beau's business, and that's what we are talking about.
The more we both know, the more we can both help him
either to get away, or to come back. ... If we knew he ia
guilty, which, of course, he isn't, we could draw red herrings
across his trail ; and if we knew he is innocent, which he is,
we could lay for the real thief and catch him out."

" Beau doesn't want him caught out, evidently," said I.

" What not if it's the miserable Gussie ? " asked my
brother indignantly.

" It isn't," said I. " And Beau knows it."

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE "BLUE WATER" 135

" Well let's have those reasons, and we'll get to work/'
said Digby. u You needn't feel as though you were giving
Beau away. There is no more harm in my knowing than in
your knowing, and there may be some good. I am not
asking you to tell Aunt, or the police, am I, bun -head ? "

This was true enough. No harm could result from Digby's
knowing all that I knew.

Moreover, if, as Digby assumed, Michael were shielding
somebody else, presumably ho would welcome any evidence
that strengthened the case against himself.

" Well," said I reluctantly, " it's like this, Dig. . . . Beau
went down to the drawing-room last night. I met him with
the key in his hand . . .

" And what were you doing, if one might ask ? " inter-
rupted my brother.

" Going to see if the ' Blue Water ' had been returned," I
replied.

" Anyhow, Beau hadn't returned it, had ho ? " grinned
Digby.

" No but at the time I, naturally enough, thought ho
had," said I, " and I suppose that lixed the idea in my mind.
I first got the idea naturally enough, again when I caught
his hand hovering over the glass cover in the darkness."

" Anything else ? " asked Digby.

" Yes, the third reason I had for suspecting Beau though
I put my faith in him before all reason was that I found him
going to the brass box with a leather and duster to rub out
the finger-prints he had made in taking and returning the
key."

Digby whistled.

" Ingenious," he murmured. " As artful as our Auntie,
if she had the idea. . . . Detectives would have the idea
anyhow."

" I think she did have the idea," I said. " I believe
she went straight from the drawing-room and polished all
the finger-marks from the lid and front of the damned
thing."

" And how do you know that Beau was on to the dodge ? "
asked Digby.

136 BEAU GE8TE

" He said so. He came into the hall with the cleaning-
things in his hand, just as I was doing it myself."

Digby stared.

" Doing it yourself ? " he said. " Why ? "

" Oh, can't you see ? " I groaned. " If Beau had been
playing the wild ass, I didn't want his finger-prints to be
found there, on top of the fact that I had been seen clutching
his fist in the drawing-room."

" Yours were there as well as his," observed Digby, " if you
went to the box for the key."

" Yes they were," said I, " and they arc there, alone,
now."

" Stout fella," approved Digby. " I'll go and shove mine
on too, and fog the Sherlocks. . . . But you really are a
goat," ho went on. " Don't you see that Beau was probably
going to do precisely what you were doing ? He was going
to polish the beastly thing clean of all foot-marks, and then
jab his own on."

"Why ?" I asked.

" To shield the real culprit, of course," said Digby patiently.

"Yes but wA//?" I repeated. "Why should Beau be
a gratuitous ass and take the blame instead of Gussie, for
example ? He'd have been more likely to nose him out and
then slipper him well."

" Because he knew it wasn't Gussie," replied my brother
solemnly.

" Who then ? " I asked.

" He didn't know," answered Digby. " But isn't it as
clear as mud, that since it wasn't Gussie or Isobel, it was you
or me or else Claudia ? "

I was silent.

" Now look here, John," went on Digby. " 'NufE said, and
time to do something instead. But first of all, do you still
suspect Beau ? "

" I have never suspected him," I replied. " I have only
realised that 1 caught his hand, met him with the drawing-
room key, and know he was going to rub finger-prints off the
brass box."

" Plain yes or no," said Digby. " Do you suspect Beau ? "

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 137

" Absolutely not," I said promptly. " No. No. No ! "

" Very good then. Now Did you do it ? "

" I did not/' said I.

" Nor did I. Very well ! Since Isobel and Augustus
mutually prove each other innocent, as she was holding his
arm, yards from the table all the time who is left ? "

" Claudia ? " said I unhappily.

" AW d'you get it ? " smiled Digby, leaning back against
the bottom of, the bed, and clasping his hands round his
knee.

" Good God, man," I cried, starting up. " You don't mean
to tell me you suspect Claudia of jewel-stealing ? "

" Keep calm," he replied. " I am not talking about whom
I suspect. I am asking you who remains if you eliminate me
and yourself as admittedly innocent, and Isobel and Augustus
as proven innocent."

" Michael and Claudia ! " I murmured. " Which idea ia
the more ridiculous ? " I said aloud.

" Equally impossible," answered Digby. " Also the fact
remains that it was one of those two if it wasn't you.
Furthermore, the fact remains that Michael has bolted for
one of two reasons because he is a frightened thief, or because
he wished to shield the guilty person you or Claudia."

A silence fell between us.

" I'm going dotty," said I at last.

" I've gone," said Digby, and we sat staring at each other.

After a time he rose.

" Got to get a move on," he said.

" What are you going to do ? " I asked.

" Durmo," he replied.

As he was leaving the room I said, " Do you think Michael
suspects either me or you, Digby ? "

" No," he replied. " He knows we didn't do it.' 1

" Do you think he suspects Claudia then ? "

" Er no of course not," he answered.

" Then ? "

" He only knows that one of us three did do it," he replied,
and went out, leaving me staring at the door.

I lay down again to think.
5*

138 BEAU GESTE

9.

Dinner that night was an extraordinary meal, at which
only Isobel, Claudia, Augustus, and I appeared.

Lady Brandon, said Burden, was dining in her own room ;
his Reverence the Chaplain was, by Dr. Warrender's orders,
remaining in bed ; Mr. Michael was not in his room when
David took up his hot water ; and Mr. Digby had been seen
going down the drive soon after tea.

" Shocking bad form, I call it Michael and Digby going
out like this after what Aunt said," remarked Augustus as
the service- door swung to, when the servants went out for
the coffee.

" You're an authority on good form, of course," I said.

" Where has Beau gone ? " asked Claudia.

" He didn't tell me," I replied.

" Don't suppose he told anybody," sneered Augustus.

" Come into the drawing-room soon," said Isobel, as I held
the dining-room door open for the girls to go out.

" I'm coming now," I replied. " As soon as I have had
some coffee."

I did not want a tlte-d-tele with Augustus, and I was more
than a little disturbed in mind as to the meaning of Digby's
absence.

What could be the reason of his defiance of Aunt Patricia's
prohibition of our leaving the house ? Was it possible that
he knew more than he had told me ?

Perhaps he had gone to the village telegraph-office to try
to get into communication with Michael at one of the several
places to which he might have gone.

It would be something important that would make him
risk giving Aunt Patricia cause to think that he had been
guilty of an ungentlemanly disobedience to her request.

I drank my coffee in silence, and in silence departed from
the room. I could not forgive Gussie for being innocent and
forcing Michael to suspect Claudia, Digby, or me ; me to
suspect Claudia, Digby, or Michael ; and Digby to suspect
Claudia, Michael, or me.

Most unjust of me, but most human, I fear.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 189

In the drawing-room Isobel was at the piano, playing
eoftly to herself, and Claudia sat staring into the fire.

I strolled over to the huge piano and sat down near it.

" Where can Michael be ? " said Claudia.

" And Digby," added Isobel.

" I don't know," said I.

" Really and truly ? " asked Claudia.

" Yes," said I. " I honestly have not the faintest idea as
to where either, of them is."

" I wish they'd come in," said Isobel,

" Oh, I can't bear this room," cried Claudia suddenly, and
springing up, went out. As I opened the door for her, I fancied
I caught a glimpse of tears on her half-averted face, though
I was not prying.

As I closed the door, Isobel rose from the piano and came
towards me. She looked very lovely I thought, with her
misty blue eyes, misty golden hair, as fine as floss-silk, and
her sweet expression. How gentle and dear she was !

" Johnny," she said, laying her hands on my chest and
looking up into my eyes, " may I ask you a silly question ?
Just once and for all ? I know the answer, but I want to
hear you say it."

" Certainly, dear," said I.

" You won't be angry, Johnny ? "

" Have I ever been angry with you, Isobel ? Could I
be ? " I asked.

She looked into my eyes steadily for a few moments.

" Did you take the ' Blue Water,' John ? " she asked.

" No, my dear, I did not," I replied, and drew her to me.
And then Isobel threw her arms round my neck and I kissed
her on the lips.

She burst into tears, and lifting her up in my arms, I carried
her to a sofa and sat hugging her to my breast and covering
her face with kisses. It had suddenly come upon me that
I loved her that I had always loved her. But hitherto it
had been as a charming darling playmate and companion,
and now it was as a woman.

If this knowledge between us were a result of the theft of
the " Blue Water," I was glad it had been stolen.

140 BEAU GESTE

" Darling 1 Darling ! Darling ! " I whispered as I kissed
her. " Do you love me, darling Isobel ? " I asked, and, for
reply, she smiled starrily through her tears, put her arms
round me, and pressed her lips to mine.

I thought my heart was stopping.

" Love you, dearest ? " she asked. " You are just my life.
I have loved everything you have said or done, since I was a
baby ! "

" Don't cry," I said, ashamed of my inarticulate inade-
quacy.

" I'm crying for joy," she sobbed. " Now you have told
me you didn't do it, I know you didn't."

" What made you think 1 did ? " 1 asked.

" I didnt think so," she replied with feminine logic ; " only
it was you who were against the table, John ; it was you
whom Michael caught ; and I saw you go down in the night
to put it back, as I thought."

" Saw me ? " I asked, in surprise.

" Yes, dear. I was awake and saw a light go by my door.
It shone underneath it. And I came out and looked over the
banisters."

" I went to see if the wretched thing had come back," I
said. " And it was rather I who caught Michael than Michael
who caught me, when you turned the lights out. We were
both expecting to catch Gussie, and caught each other."

" And, oh, I have been so wretchedly unhappy," she went
on, "thinking appearances were so against you, and yet
knowing I was allowing Gussie to remain under suspicion
when I knew it wasn't he. ... But when it seemed the
thing was actually stolen, I couldn't keep quiet any longer.
It was bad enough when it was only a practical joke, as we
thought. . . . And then I seemed to be helping to bring
uspicion towards you when I cleared Gussie. . . ."

She wiped away a tear.

" I don't care now," she smiled. " Nothing on earth
matters. So long as you love me I don't see how I can have
a care in the world. . . . You're sure, darling ? "

I endeavoured to express myself without the use of halting
and unfluent speech.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE "BLUE WATER" 141

" When did you first love me ? " asked my sweet and
beautiful darling, when I released her.

" I don't know," I said. " I have always loved you, and
now I worship you, and I always shall," and again she gave
me a long embrace that seemed to stop the beating of my
heart and lift me up and up to an incredible heaven of
ecstasy and joy almost unbearable.

The sound of footsteps and a hand on the door brought
us back to ear^h. We sprang to our feet, and when David
entered, Isobel was putting away her music, and I was con-
sulting a small pocket-book with terrific abstraction from my
surroundings.

" Excuse me, sir," said David, halting before me. " Might
I speak to you, sir ? "

" You're doing it, David," said I.

" In private, sir, a moment," he explained.

I went to the door with him, and having closed it, he
produced a note and gave it to me.

" Mr. Digby, sir. lie very specially instructed me to give
you this in private at ten o'clock this evening, sir, thank
you, sir."

" Thank you, David," said I, and went along to the smoking-
room, opening the letter as I went.

Although I felt that I ought to be filled with apprehension,
anxiety, and trouble, my heart sang for glee, and I could have
danced down the long corridor, to the surprise and disapproval
of the various stiff and stately Brandons, male and female,
who looked down from its walls.

" This is most selfish and wrong," said I, and repressed a
desire to sing, whistle, and whoop, and literally jump for joy.

" Isobel ! Isobel ! Isobel ! " sang my heart. " Isobel
loves me and I love Isobel. . . ."

The smoking-room was empty, and I could hear the click
of balls from the neighbouring billiard-room, showing why*
Gussie was evidently at his favourite, somewhat aimless,
evening employment.

I turned up the lights, poked up the fire, pulled up the
biggest and deepest chair, and filled my pipe and lit it.

Had I come straight here from the dining-room, and here

142 BEAU GESTB

received Digby's letter, I should have snatched it, and opened
it with sinking heart and trembling fingers.

Now, nothing seemed of much importance, compared with
the great fact of which my heart was chanting its paean of
praise and thanks to God.

Love is very selfish I fear but then it is the very selves
of two people becoming one self. . . .

And then I read poor Digby's letter. It was as follows :

" My dear John,

I now take up my pen to write you these few lines, hoping
they find you as they won 9 1 find me. After terrific thought and
mental wrestling, which cost me a trouser -button, I have come to
the conclusion that I can no longer deceive you all and let the
innocent suffer for my guilty sin or sinny guilt.

I go to find my noble-hearted twin, to kneel at his feet and say,
' Brother, I have sinned in thy sight ' (but it was in the dark
really) ' and am no more worthy to be called anything but wJuit
I am.'

No one knows the shame I feel, not even me ; and, by the
time you get this, I shall be well on my way to where I
am going.

WUl you please tell Aunt tJiat Michael 9 s noble and beautiful
action Juis wrung my heart, and I wish he Juid wrung my neck.
I cannot let him take the blame for me, like this. I shall write to
her from Town.

When you find yourself in the witness-dock or prisoner* s-box
tell the Beak Oiat you have always known me to be weak but not
vicious, and that my downfall has been due to smoking cigarettes
and going in for newspaper competitions. Also that you are
sure that, if given time, 1 shall redeem myself by Jiard work,
earn thirty shillings a week at least, and return the thirty thousand
pounds out of my savings.

Write and let me know how things go on, as soon as I send
you an address which you will, of course, keep to yourself.
Give my love to Isobel.

Play up and don 9 1 forget you've GOT to stand by me and make
people realise the truth that I actually am the thiefor suspicion
ttitt rest* on Claudia (since Isobel and Oussie are out of it), if

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 143

we three do not provide the criminal amongst us. And, of course,
I can't let Beau suffer for me.

Directly you hear from him, let him know by wire that 1
have confessed and bolted, and that he can return to Brandon
Abbas and admit tfiat he was shielding the real culprit (whom
he knew to be ME or YOU or CLAUDIA !). Give my love to Isobd.

Ever thine ,

Digby."

For a moment this drove even Isobel from my mind.

It had never occurred to me for one moment that Digby
had actually fled, as Michael had done. Could it be possible
that ho was speaking the truth in the letter ?

Could he have stolen the " Blue Water " as he said, and
had Michael's flight and shouldering of the blame forced his
hand and compelled him, in very shame, to confess ? . . .

Or did he, in his heart of hearts, think that Michael was
really guilty and had fled rather than allow three innocent
people to lie under suspicion with himself ? Had Digby,
thinking this, fled to divert suspicion from the guilty Michael,
to confuse the issae and divide the pursuit, thus giving him
a better chance to get clear away ? . . .

Probably neither. It was much more likely that his idea
was to help to shield the person whom Michael thought he was
shielding, and at the same time to share with Michael the
suspicion thus diverted from the guilty person.

The moment it was known that Michael had fled, the world
and his wife would say, "The vile young tliief ! "

Directly Digby followed him they would say, " Which of
them is the thief ? " and no eye would be turned enquiringly
upon those who, in their conscious innocence, had remained
at home.

And whom did Michael and Digby suspect, if they were
both innocent ?

Obviously either Claudia or me.

And if they could no more suspect me than I could suspect
them . . . ?

It dawned on me, or rather it was stabbed into my heart

144 BEAU GESTB

suddenly, as with a knife, that it was quite as much my
affair to help in preventing suspicion, just or unjust, from
falling upon Claudia ; and that if they could face obloquy,
poverty, hardship, and general wrecking of their lives for
Claudia and for me and for each other why, so could I for
them, and that it was my duty to go too.

Moreover, when detectives and criminal-experts got to
work on the case, they would be quite capable of saying that
there was nothing to prevent Isobel and Augustus from being
in collusion to prove each other innocent, anct would suspect
one or both of them the more.

To us, who knew her, it was completely proven that Augus-
tus was innocent, because she said so.

To a detective, it would more probably be a clue to the
guilty person the girl who produced this piece of " evidence "
which incidentally proclaimed her own innocence.

Moreover, the wretched Augustus had most undoubtedly
been surprised when Isobel said he must be innocent as she
had been holding on to him all the time the light was out.
If this came out, it would certainly fix the suspicion on Isobel,
and if it did not, there was a strong probability that her
declaration concerning Augustus would, as I have said,
suggest collusion between them.

The more reason then for me to strengthen the obvious
solution that the thief was one of the Gestes.

If three people fled confessing their guilt, that was where
the collusion would be among the three rascally brothers
who had plotted to rob their relative and share the spoil.

That the oldest had weakened and fled first, was to his
credit, or not, according to whether you more admired
courage or confession ; but obviously and incontestably, the
blame must lie upon these three, and not among those who
remained at home and faced the music.

" But" said the voices of prudence, cowardice, and common
sense, as well as the voice of love, " two are enough to take the
blame, surely ? Let people say it was one of those two, or perhaps
the two in partnership"

" And why" replied the voices of self-respect and pride,
u should those two share the blame (or the honour) f Why should

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 145

they shield Isabel and YOU, as wett as Claudia,from suspicion ? "
and to the latter voice I listened.

I could not possibly sit at home and enjoy life while the
Captain and the Lieutenant were in trouble, disgrace, and
danger my whole life- training, as well as instincts, forbade.

I think that within two minutes of reading Digby's letter,
the question of my going was quite definitely answered, and
only the minor questions of where I should go, and whether
I should say anything to Isobel, remained to be settled.
And one of these two problems was subconsciously solved,
though I had not intentionally considered it and come to a
decision.

From the moment that I had learnt of Michael's flight, I
had had somewhere, just below the level of consciousness, a
vague remembrance of the existence of a romantic-sounding,
adventurous corps of soldiers of fortune, called the French
Foreign Legion.

When thinking of Michael, and seeing mental pictures of
him in the setting of Brandon Abbas, our " Prep," school,
Eton and Oxford, one of the clearest of these dissolving views
had been of a group of us in the Bower, at the feet of a smart
and debonair young French officer, who had thrilled us with
dramatic tales of Algeria, Morocco, and the Sahara ; tales of
Spahis, Turcos, Zouaves, Chasseurs d'Afrique, and the
French Foreign Legion of Mercenaries ; tales of hot life and
brave death, of battle and of bivouac. At the end, Michael
had said :

" I shall join the French Foreign Legion when I leave
Eton. . . . Get a commission and go into his regiment,"
and Digby and I had applauded the plan.

Had Michael remembered this, and was he, even now, on
his way to this life of adventure and glory, determined to
win his way to soldierly renown under a nom de guerre ? . .
It would be so like Michael.

And Digby ? Had he had the same idea and followed him ?
It would be so like Digby.

And I ? Should I follow my brothers' lead, asking nothing
better than to do as they did, and win their approval f . . .
It would be so like me.

BEAU GESTB

Three romantic young asses ! I can smile at them now.
Asses without doubt ; wild asses of the wildest ; but still,
with the imagination and the soul to be romantic asses,
thank God !

10.

As compensation for a smaller share of the gifts of courage,
cleverness, and general distinction possessed by my brilliant
brothers, I have been vouchsafed a larger measure of prudence
and caution though some may think that* still does not
amount to much.

I have met few men to equal Michael and Digby in beauty,
physical strength, courage, arid intelligence ; but I was, in
spite of being an equally incurably romantic, " longer-
headed " than they, and even more muscular and powerful.
This is tremendous praise to award myself, but facts are facts.

Having decided to join them in disgrace and blame, as
well as to join them in the flesh if I could going to the Legion
bo look for them in the first place I settled down to consider
details, ways, and means.

I can think better in the dark, so I knocked out my pipe,
burnt Digby's letter, and went up to bed.

The first fact to face, and it loomed largest and most dis-
couraging of all, was separation from Isobel in the very
moment of finding her. Paradoxically, however, the very
exaltation and excitement of this wonderful thing that had
happened, this finding of her, carried me along and gave me
the power to leave her.

I was tete-montfo, beside myself, and above myself, abnormal.

I would show my love that I, too, could do a fine thing, and
could make a personal sacrifice to ward off from women, one
of whom was mine, " the slings and arrows of outrageous
fortune," outrageous suspicion and annoyance.

To leave her would be misery unspeakable but what a
beautiful misery and poignantly delightful sorrow for the heart
of romantic youth to hug to itself !

Also I knew that it was quite useless for such children as
ourselves she nineteen and I twenty at present penniless
and dependent, to think of formal engagements and early

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 147

marriages. Love was all and love was enough, until I should
return, bronzed and decorated, successful and established, a
distinguished Soldier of Fortune, to claim her hand.

1 would then take my bride to be the admired and beloved
Pride of the Regiment, a soldier's star and stay and queen. . . .
(Twenty is a great age at which to be with love in your heart
and life before you. . . .)

Should I tell her what I was going to do and have one last
beautifully-terrible hour, with her in my arms, or should I
write her a letter to be given to her after I had gone ?

I am glad to say that I had the grace to look at it from
her point of view, and to decide according to what I thought
would be better for her.

In the letter I could give the impression that this was only
a short separation, and that I was writing to say " Au revoir "
rather than " Good-bye."

If I told her in an interview, my obvious wretchedness and
woebegone countenance would contradict my words. I
knew I should kiss and embrace her as if for the last time on
earth, and look as though I were going to the scaffold rather
than into hiding for a while, until the missing jewel turned
up, or the thief was caught.

Yes I had better write, being careful to avoid the sugges-
tion that this was any more a " separation " than my going
back to Oxford for the next term would have been.

That question was settled.

The next thing to consider was the problem of procedure.

I should want sufficient money and kit to enable me to get
to France and subsist for a few days, probably in Paris.

Ten pounds or so, a change of underclothing, and a tooth-
brush, would be the sort of thing. With a very small suit-case
one would be quite comfortable.

My watch, links, studs, cigarette-case, and a good gold
pencil which I possessed would provide ample funds. I had
more than sufficient ready money for my fare to London,
and could there faise enough to carry me on to Paris and
keep me for a few days.

I would breakfast with the others, and quietly walk off to
catch the ten-forty to Exeter, and take the eleven-forty-five

148 BEAU GESTE

thence to London, arriving about three o'clock. I would cross
to France the next day, getting there in the evening ; sleep at
an hotel, and, as soon as possible, become a soldier of France.

Whatever my brothers had done, I should at least have
followed their example worthily, and have given a realistic
and convincing imitation of the conduct of a frightened and
desperate thief, fleeing from the consequences of his crime
and the shame of facing his relatives and former friends.

And if Michael and Digby were actually, there when I
arrived why, I should regret nothing but the separation
from Isobel a separation, albeit, during which I would
qualify, in age, position, and income, for the honour of
becoming her husband.

I think I had arrived at the position of Commander-in-
Chief in Algeria and Grand Commander of the Legion of
Honour when I fell asleep. . . .

I awoke in the morning in a very different frame of mind
from that of the morning before. My heart was full of pride
that Isobel loved me and was mine. My brain was full of
schemes and plans, and my whole being tingled gloriously
with a sense of high adventure.

" If youth but knew . . ."

When David brought my hot water, with his inevitable,
" Half -past seven, sir, and a fine morning " (when the rain
stops, or the fog clears, as the case might be), I told him I
should give him a letter, after breakfast, which he was to give
privately to Miss Rivers at the first convenient opportunity
after eleven o'clock.

I thought it better to give it to David than to a maid. He
had obeyed instructions in the case of Michael's letter to
Digby, and Digby's letter to me, and a maid would be more
likely to chatter in the servants' hall.

I did not think that there was the slightest suspicion in
that quarter, and, as Aunt Patricia had said, there was no
reason why there should be any, provided the mystery of the
" Blue Water " was solved without the aid of the police.

I could have posted my letter to her of course, but that
would have involved delay, and an anxious night for her.
It would also mean a post-mark, and I thought it would be

DISAPPEARANCE OP THE "BLUE WATER" 149

better for her to be able to say, with perfect truth, that she
had not the vaguest idea as to where I had gone.

When I had dressed, I put my brushes and shaving-tackle
into an attache-case, and crammed in a shirt, collars, and
socks, and then went down to the smoking-room, and, after
some unsatisfactory efforts, wrote to Isobel :

" My darling beautiful Sweetheart,

1 had a* letter from Digby last night. He has bolted
because he thinks that Michael has shouldered the blame and
disgrace of this theft in order to protect the innocent and shield
the guilty person (who must appear to him to be Claudia, Digby,
of myself, as it is not you nor Oussie). Digby told me that it
teas not he, and he refuses to believe that it is Michael. I don't
think he suspects me either.

Now, you'll be the first to agree that I can't sit at home and let
them do this, believing them to be innocent. And if either of
them were guilty, I'd want, all the more, to do anything I could
to help. Were it not for leaving you, for a little while, just when
I have found you, I should be rather enjoying it, I am afraid.

Anyhow, I should have had to leave you in a little while, when
I went up to Oxford again, and that would have been an eight
weeks' separation. As it is, we are only going to be parted until
this silly wretched business is cleared up. I expect the thief will
return the thing anonymously as soon as he or she finds that we
three are all pretending we did it, and that we will not resume
our ordinary lives until restitution is made.

You know that I didn't do it, and I know that you didn't,
and that's att that realty matters / but you wouldn't have me
hold back when the Captain and Lieutenant of the Band art out
to divert suspicion from the innocent and to shame the guilty into
returning Aunt's property I

I'll send you an address later on, so that you can tell me what
happens but, just at first, I want you to have no idea where I
am, and to say so.

You'd despise me, really, in your heart, if I stayed at home,
though 1 know you'll miss me and want me back. I shall come,
of course, the moment you let me know that the affair is cleared
up. Meanwhile, no at* of a detective will be suspecting you or

160 BEAU GESTE

Claudia, or poor innocent Gussie, since obviously one of the
absconding three (or all of them) must be the thief. Aunt will go
to the police about it of course, and they will soon be on our track
and trouble no one at Brandon Abbas.

And now, darling Isabel, darling Faithful Hound, I am not
going to try to tell you how much I love you / am going to do
it before you get this. But everything is different since last
night. The world is a perfectly glorious place, and life is a
perfectly glorious thing. Nothing matters, because Isobel loves
me and I love Isobel for ever and ever. I want to sing all the
time, and to tell everybody.

Isn't love absolutely WONDERFUL ?

Always and always,

Your devoted, adoring, grateful

Sweetheart"

This honest, if boyish, eflusion I gave to David, and repeated
my instructions.

He contrived to keep his face correctly expressionless,
though he must have wondered how many more of us were
going to give him epistles to be privately delivered after their
departure to other members of the household.

Leaving the smoking-room, I met Burdon in the corridor.

" Can you tell me where Mr. Michael is, sir ? " he asked.
" Her ladyship wishes to see him/'

" No, I can't, Burdon," I replied, " for the excellent reason
that I don't know."

" Mr. Digby's bed have not been slep' in either, sir," he
went on. " I did not know the gentlemen were going away. . . .
Nothing packed nor nothing."

" They didn't tell me they were going, Burdon," I said,
putting on an owlish look of wonder and speculation.
" They're off on some jaunt or other, 1 suppose. ... I hope
they ask me to join them."

" Racing, p'r'aps, sir ? " suggested Burdon sadly.

" Shocking," said I, and left him, looking waggish to the
best of my ability. . . .

There were only the four of us at breakfast again.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 151

Isobel's face lit up radiantly as our glances met, and we
telegraphed our love to each other.

" Anyone heard how the Chaplain is ? " asked Claudia.

" I went to see him last night," replied Isobel, " but the
nurse said he was asleep."

" Nurse ? " asked Augustus.

" Yes," said Isobel. " Dr. Warrender thought he ought
to have a night-nurse, and Aunt Patricia telegraphed for one.
He's going to g*t up to-day though, the nurse told me."

" Where's Digby ? " asked Augustus.

" Why ? " I said elliptically.

" Burdon asked me if I'd seen him, and said he wasn't
in last night."

" I know no more than you do where he is," I honestly
assured him.

" Funny isn't it ? " he sneered.

" Most humorous," I agreed.

" Perhaps Aunt will think so," countered Augustus un-
pleasantly. . . . " First Michael and then Digby, after what
she said about not leaving the house ! "

" Ought to have consulted you first, Gussie," said Claudia.

" Looks as though they didn't want to consult the police,
if you ask me," he snarled.

" We didn't ask you, Gussie," said Isobel, and so the
miserable meal dragged through.

Towards the end of it, Burdon came in.

" Her ladyship wishes to see Mr. Digby," he said to the
circumambient air.

" Want a bit of doing, I should say," remarked Augustus,
with a snigger.

" He's not here, Burdon," said I, looking under the table.

" No, sir," replied Burdon gravely, and departed.

" You next, my lad," Augustus stated, eyeing me severely*
" I wonder if the detectives have come."

Burdon returned.

" Her ladyship would like to see you in her boudoir, after
breakfast, sir," said he to me.

" Told you so," remarked Augustus, as the door closed
behind the butler.

152 BEAU GESTE

"Where do you think the others have gone?" asked
Claudia, turning to me. " They can't have run away surely ?
not both of them ? "

1 Doesn't look like it, does it ? " put in Augustus.

* If they have gone away it's for an excellent reason,"
sa d Isobel.

* Best of reasons," agreed Augustus.

' Quite the best, Claudia," said I, looking at her. " //
they have ' run away,' as you said, it is to turn suspicion away
from the house and everybody in it, of course."

" Oh, of course," agreed Augustus again.

" Just what they would do," said Isobel quietly.

" It would be like Michael," said Claudia in a low voice, and
getting up, went quickly out of the room.

" And Digby," added I, as she did so.

Augustus departed soon after, with a malicious " Up you
go " to me, and a jerk of his thumb in the direction of Aunt
Patricia's room. Our recent roughness and suspicion evidently
rankled in his gentle breast.

As soon as we were alone, I turned to Isobel, who sat beside
me, put my arms round her and gave and received a long
kiss.

" Come out to the Bower a minute, darling," said I, and
we scuttled ol! together.

There I crushed her to my breast and kissed her lips, her
cheeks, and eyes, and hair, as though I could never have
enough, and never stop.

" Will you love me for ever, darling ? " I asked. " What-
ever may happen to us, or wherever we may be ? "

She did not reply in words, but her answer was very
satisfying.

" Aunt wants me," then said I, and bolted back to the
house. But I had no intention of seeing Aunt Patricia.

Mine should be the more convincing role of the uneasy,
trembling criminal, who, suddenly sent for, finds he has not
the courage to face the ordeal, and flees before the ominous
Bound of the summons.

I was very glad this had happened, as it would appear to
have given me the cue for flight.

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE " BLUE WATER " 153

When first sent for, I was found peacefully eating my break-
fast in fancied security. When again sent for, I should be
missing obviously terrified of the command and guiltily
afraid to obey it.

Going to my room, I took my attache-case from the ward-
robe, pocketed a photograph of Isobel, and went quietly down
the service staircase that debouched by the luggage-lift in a
passage opening into the outer hall. In a minute I was across
the shrubbery and into the drive at a bend which hid it from
the house.

Twenty minutes' walking brought me to the station, where
I booked to Exeter. That would not tell anybody very much,
for though I was perfectly well known to everybody at our
local station, it would be extremely unlikely that I should
be traced from so busy a junction as Exeter, in the crowd
that would be booking for the morning train to Waterloo.

As I waited on our platform, I was conscious of an almost
unbearable longing to go back to Brandon Abbas and IsobeL
How could I leave her like this, now, the very day after I
had found her ?

I felt a bigger lump in my throat than I had ever known
since I was a child. It was utterly horrible.

But for the excitement and adventure of the business, I
think I should have succumbed to the longing to return.
But when two loving people part, one going on a journey, it is
always the departing one who suffers the less.

It is inevitable that the distractions of travel, movement,
change, shall drug the pain to which the other is equally
exposed without the amelioration of mental and bodily occu-
pation.

So, between my mind and the agony of separation from
Isobel came the deadening and protecting cloak of action and
of the competing thoughts of other matters journey's end,
the future, money, Paris, Algeria, the probabilities of finding
Michael and Digby. . . .

Anyhow, I conquered the yearning to go back to her, and
when the local train loafed in I got into it, with a stiff upper
lip and a bleeding heart, and set out on aa eventful and strange
a journey as ever a man took.

CHAPTER III
THE GAY ROMANTICS f

"Cnrs'd from the cradle and awry they come

Masking their torment from a world at ease ;
On eyes of dark entreaty, vague and dumb,
They bear the stigma of their souls' disease."

I REMEMBER nothing of that horrible journey from
Exeter to Waterloo. It passed as a bad dream passes,
and I awoke from it in London.

As has happened to others in the history of that city, I
found that, in such circumstances, London was a very large
place, and myself a very small and lonely atom of human
dust therein.

Walking out from Waterloo Station into the unpleasing
purlieus thereof, I was tempted to go to the quiet and ex-
clusive hotel that the Brandons had patronised for very
many years, and where I was well known and should feel a
sense of being at home among friends.

For this very reason I resisted the temptation, and was
aided to do so by the question of finance. Whatever I did,
I must leave myself sufficient money for my journey to Paris
and subsistence there until I should become a soldier of France,
to be lodged, boarded, clothed, and paid by Madame la
R6publique.

The first thing to do was to convert my disposable property
into cash, a distasteful undertaking, but essential to further
progress along the path I had elected to follow. If I had to
do nothing more unpleasant than that, I told myself, as I
walked along down a mean street toward Westminster
Bridge, the said path would be no thorny one.

154

THE GAY ROMANTICS 166

And, at that moment, my eye fell upon what I took to be
the very place I wanted a pawnbroker's shop, stuffed to
bursting with a most heterogeneous collection of second-hand
merchandise, ranging from clothing and jewellery by way of
boxing-gloves, guns, knives, meerschaum pipes and cigar-
holders, cameras, umbrellas and walking-sticks, field-glasses,
portmanteaux, to concertinas, cornets, and musical instru-
ments of every description.

I entered and found a young gentleman, of markedly
Hebraic appearance, behind the counter. I expected to hear
him say :

" Vat d'ye vant, Mithter ? " and waggle his hands, palms
upwards, near his shoulders, as I remembered a song, last
heard at Oxford, anent one Solomon Levi and his store at
Chatham Street.

For some reason, best known to himself, he wore a bowler
hat of proportions so generous that it rested upon the nape of
his neck and his ears, depressing the latter well-developed
organs, BO that they drooped forward as droops the tired lily
though in no other way did they suggest that flower.

To compensate for the indoor wearing of this outdoor
garment, he had discarded his coat, exposing shirt-sleeves
that again did not suggest the lily. A very large watch-chain
adorned a fancy waistcoat that was certainly worn by him at
meal-times also, and his diamond tie-pin bore testimony to
his financial solidity and to his taste.

1 fear I looked at him for a few seconds longer than good
manners could approve but then he looked at me for pre-
cisely the same length of time, though with a difference. For
I was looking with a wondering admiration, whereas he was
regarding me with little of wonder and less of admiration.

It was perfectly clear that he did not regard me as a buyer,
though by what instinct or experience he could tell, I know
not.

" Surely," thought I, " even if I have not the appearance
of one who comes to buy, I still do not look like a needy,
eedy seller ? "

But he knew ! He knew ; and his silence was eloquent.

As his bold brown eyes regarded me, his curved nostril

156 BEAU GESTE

curved a little more, and his large ripe lips, beneath the pendu-
Ions nose, ripened while I watched.

He said no word, and this fact somewhat disconcerted me,
for I had hitherto regarded the Children of Israel as a decidedly
chatty race.

I broke the heavy silence of the dark mysterious shop, and
added strange sounds to the strange sights and stranger
smells.

" I want to sell my watch and one or two things/' said I to
this silent son of Abraham's seed.

He did not triumph in the manifest Tightness of his judg-
ment that I was a contemptible seller and not an admirable
buyer. He did not do anything at all, in fact. He did not
even speak.

No word nor sigh nor sound escaped him.

I produced my watch and laid it at his feet, or rather at
his stomach. It was gold and good, and it had cost twenty-
five pounds. (I allude to the watch.)

" 'Ow much ? " said the child of the Children of Israel.

" Er wellisn't that rather for you to say ? " I replied.
" I know it cost twenty-five pounds and is an excellent . . ."

" 'Ow much ? " interrupted the swarthy Child.

44 How much will you give me ? " I replied. . % " Suppose
we split the difference and you ..."

" 'Ow much ? " interrupted the Child again.

" Ten pounds ? " I suggested, feeling that I was being
reasonable and, indeed, generous. I did not wish my neces-
sitous condition to weigh with him and lead him to decrease
his just profits.

" Two quid," said the Child promptly.

" Not a tenth of what it cost ? " said I, on a note of remon-
strance. " Surely that is hardly a fair and ..."

" Two quid," interrupted the Child, whose manners seemed
less rich than his attire.

I was tempted to take up the watch and depart, but I felt
I could not go through all this again. Perhaps two pounds
was the recognised selling price of all gold watches ?

Producing my cigarette-case, gold pencil, and a tiny
jeweller's box containing my dress studs, I laid them before

THE GAY ROMANTICS 157

this spoiler of Egyptians, and then detached my links from
my shirt-cuffs.

" 'Ow much ? " enquired the Child once more.

" Well," replied I, " the pencil is pretty heavy, and the
studs are good. So are the links. They're all eighteen carat
and the . . ."

" 'Ow much ? " repeated the voice, which I was beginning
to dislike.

" Ten pounds .for the watch, pencil, and . . ."

" Four quid," the Child replied, in the voice of Fate and
Destiny and Doom, and seeking a toothpick in the pocket of
his " gent.'s fancy vest," he guided it about its lawful occa-
sions.

This would not do. 1 felt I must add at least five pounds
to what I already had. I was a little vague as to the abso-
lutely necessary minimum, but another five pounds seemed
to me to be very desirable.

" Oh, come make it seven," said I, in the bright tone of
encouragement and optimism.

The Child regarded the point of his toothpick. It appeared
to interest him far more than I, or my poor affairs, could ever
do.

" Six," said I, with falsely cheerful hopefulness.

The toothpick returned to duty, and a brooding silence
fell upon us.

" Five, then," I suggested, with a falsely firm finality.

The Child yawned. For some reason I thought of onions,
beer, and garlic, things very well in their way and their place,
and quite pleasing to those who like them.

" Then I'm afraid I've wasted your valuable time," said I,
with deep wiliness, making as though to gather up my despised
property.

The Child did not trouble to deny my statement. He
removed his bowler hat and looked patiently into its interior,
as good men do in church. The hair of the head of the Child
was most copiously abundant, and wonderfully curly. I
thought of oil-presses, anointed bulls of Bashan, and, with
bewildered awe, of the strange preferences of Providence.

However, I would walk to the door and see whether, rather

168 BEAU GE8TB

than let me go, he would offer five pounds for what had cost
at least fifty.

As 1 did so, this representative of the Chosen People cocked
an eye at my dispatch-case.

" Wotcher got there ? " he growled.

Imitating his excellent economy of words, I opened the case
without reply, and removing a silk shirt, vest, and socks,
displayed three collars, a pair of silver-backed hair- brushes, a
comb, a silver-handled shaving-brush, a razo^r, an ivory nail-
brush, a tooth-brush, and a silver box containing soap.

" Five quid the lot and chance if you've pinched 'em/'
said the Child.

" You'll give me five pounds for a gold watch, links, studs,
and pencil-case ; a silver cigarette-case, hair-brushes, and
shaving-brush ; a razor, shirt, vest, socks, collars, and a
leather dispatch-case ? " I enquired politely.

" Yus," said the Child succinctly.

Well, I could get shaved for a few pence, and in a couple
of days I should probably be in uniform.

" I'll keep the tooth-brush and a collar," I remarked,
putting them in my pocket.

" Then chuck in the walkin* stick and gloves, or it's four-
fifteen," was the prompt reply.

I gazed upon the Child in pained astonishment.

" I gotter live, ain't I ? " he replied, in a piteous voice,
to my cruel look.

Forbearing to observe " Je ne vois pas la n&cessite" I laid
my stick and gloves on the counter, realising that, in any case,
I should shortly have no further need of them.

The Child produced a purse, handed rne five pounds, and
swept my late property into a big drawer.

" Thank you," said I, departing. " Good evening."

But the Child apparently did not think it was a good even-
ing, for he vouchsafed no reply.

One should not judge a race by single specimens, of course,
but racial antipathy is a curious thing. . . .

Crossing Westminster Bridge, with about ten pounds in
my pocket, misery in my heart, and nothing in my hand, I
made my way along Whitehall to Trafalgar Square, sorely

THE GAY ROMANTICS 159

tempted by the sight and smell of food as I passed various
places devoted to the provision of meals, but not of beds.

It had occurred to me that it would be cheaper to dine,
sleep, and breakfast at the same place, than to have dinner
somewhere, and then go in search of a bedroom for the night
and breakfast in the morning.

As I walked, I thought of the hotels of which I knew
the Ritz, the Savoy, the Carlton, Olaridgc's, the Grosvcnor,
the Langham, aryl certain more discreet and exclusive ones
in the neighbourhood of the Albany (where Uncle Hector
kept a picd-d-terre for his use when in England).

But both their cost and their risks wore almost as much
against them as were those of our own family hotel. Even
if I could afford to go to such hotels as these, i 4 " was quite
likely that the first person I should run against, in the one I
selected, would be some friend or acquaintance.

I decided to approach one of those mines of information, or
towers of strength and refuge, a London policeman.

" Take a bus to Bloomsbury, and you'll find what you want.
Russell Square, Bedford Square, British Museum. All round
that neighbourhood/' was the reply of the stalwart to whom
I applied for advice, as to a cheap, quiet, and decent hotel.

1 obeyed his words, and had an edible dinner, a clean and
comfortable bed, and a satisfying breakfast, for a surprisingly
small sum, in an hotel that looked on to the British Museum
and seemed to be the favoured of the clergy it being almost
full of men of religion and their women-folk of even more
religion.

The " young lady " at the bureau of this chaste hostelry
did something to enhance the diminished self-respect that my
Israelite had left to me, by making no comment upon the fact
that I was devoid of luggage, and by refraining from asking
me to produce money in advance of hospitality. Perhaps she
had a more discerning eye, or perhaps merely a softer heart,
than had the child of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ; or perhaps
she was merely more of a fool.

Nevertheless I was glad to get away in the morning and to
seek the shop of a hairdresser, after sleeping, for the first
time in my life, without pyjamas, and bathing without a

160 BEAU GESTE

sponge. I was also glad to feel that the tips which I had given,
with apologies for their modesty, to the waiter and chamber-
maid had seemed quite adequate in their sight, and to cover
my known deficiencies both of evening wear and night-gear.

It was extraordinary how naked I felt without my links,
and how dishevelled without having used a brush and comb.

Finding a desirable barber's in Oxford Street, I was shaven
and shampooed and went on my way, if not rejoicing, at any
rate in better case, and feeling more my own man*

2.

My journey to Paris was uneventful and uncomfortable,
confirming me in my opinion that economy in travelling is
one of the dearest economies of all.

Personally, I would always rather travel first class and miss
my meals, than travel third and enjoy three good ones, on
a day's journey. Nor is this in the least due to paltry exclu-
siveness and despicable snobbishness. It is merely that I
would rather spend the money on a comfortable seat, a
pleasant compartment, and freedom from crowding, than on
food with cramped circumstance. Let him who, in his
wisdom, would rather spend his money on good food and
have the discomfort, do so by all means.

De gustibus non disptitandum, as the learned say, and like-
wise, Chacun d son godt.

Anyhow, the third-class journey was by no means to my
gofa at the time, though the day quickly came when it would
have seemed the height of luxury.

From Charing Cross (where I turned my pounds into francs
and felt much richer) to Dover I contrasted the beautiful
county of Kent with my own Devon, in favour of the latter ;
and, at Dover, I went on board the cross-Channel steamer,
deeply and appreciatively inhaling the glorious air, after that
of the dusty, stuffy, crowded compartment in which I had
travelled down.

Mentally I was in a curious condition, for while one half
of myself ached unbearably for Isobel, the other half rejoiced
wildly at the thought of adventure, travel, novelty, spacious

THE GAT ROMANTICS 161

life, mysterious Africa, the desert, fighting, and all that
appeals to the heart of romantic youth.

At Calais, the sight of a French soldier, a sentry near the
Custom House, gave me a real thrill.

Was I actually going to wear that uniform myself in a
day or two ? A fapi, baggy red breeches, and a long overcoat,
buttoned back from the legs ? How much more attractive
and romantic than the familiar British uniform that seemed
to suggest Hyde Park and nurse-maids, rather than palms,
oases, Moorish cities, and desert warfare.

So is the unknown always better than the known, and the
thing we have not, better than that we have. . . .

At the Gare du Nord I experienced, in an intensified form,
that sense of loneliness and utter insignificance that had
assailed me at Waterloo ; and I went out into the bright
uproar of gay Paris, feeling anything but bright, uproarious,
or gay myself. I was once more faced with the problem of
hotels, for I had not the least idea as to how one set about
offering one's services to France as a mercenary soldier, and
the first thing to do, therefore, was to find a roof and a bed
to serve me while I set about the quest.

My knowledge of Paris hotels was confined to the Meurice,
Crillon, the Bristol, and the Ambassadors, but I knew these
to be expensive, and, moreover, places at which I might
meet acquaintances. There was no great likelihood of my
meeting anyone who knew me well ; but there was a
chance, and I wanted to behave precisely as a guilty fugitive
would do.

If I were traced, and it were found that I had gone, in
London and Paris, to places where I might meet friends, it
would hardly look as though I were a genuine jewel-thief,
anxious to cover his tracks as he fled the country.

On the other hand, I did not want to blunder into an
obscure cheap hotel, without luggage, an obvious foreigner,
and run the risk of a visit from a polite but inquisitive
agent de police, as seemed to me quite possible, if I and my
explanations struck the proprietor as peculiar. . . .

A whimsical idea struck me. Why not go to the police
themselves for advice on the subject of avoiding such trouble ?
6

163 BEAU GESTE

Satintering along the noisy busy thoroughfare that passes
the Gare du Nord, I looked out for a gendarme.

Presently I saw one standing on an island in the middle
of the road, silent, inscrutable, immobile, heavily caped,
oppressed by great responsibilities. Crossing to him, I raised
my hat, and in my best and politest French (which is not
bad, thanks to a French governess in our youth, and the
Chaplain's wisdom and care), asked him if he could direct
me to a good quiet hotel.

Moving his eyes, but not his head, nor any other portion
of his majestic person, he examined me from top to toe and
back again.

" Monsieur is English," he pronounced.

I acknowledged the truth of his statement, wondering how
he knew I was not German, Swiss, Danish, Swedish,
Norwegian, nor Dutch.

"Hotel Normandie, Rue de I'fichelle," he announced
without hesitation.

" And how do I get there, Monsieur I'Officiert " I asked.

" Fiacre" was the prompt, terse reply, and the all-seeing
official eye left me and sought among the traffic. A white-
gloved hand was suddenly raised, and an open cab, driven
by a many-caped gentleman, who did not look like a tee-
totaller, approached.

14 Normandie, Rue de Pfichelle," said my gendarme to the
cocker, and gave me a military salute, as I thanked him,
raised my hat, and stepped into the carriage.

I enjoyed the drive through beautiful Paris in the mingled
glow of late sunset and the myriad lights of the shops and
streets ; but my heart sank a little as the cab drew up before
a fashionable-looking hotel that stood at a busy corner, close
to the Rue de Rivoli and to the Rue de la Paix.

It looked as expensive as the best. However, Fate had
sent me here, and here I would stay.

Trying to look as unconcerned as a luggageless traveller
may, I entered the hall, received the bow of an imposing hall-
porter, and marched straight ahead, past the grand staircase
and the dining-room, to where I could see the bureau, and
beyond it, the palm-decked fumoir.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 163

At the bureau, a very pretty girl was talking to an American
in American.

This was good luck. I could make a much more convincing
show in English than in my pedantic and careful French.

Standing near, and trying to look like an eccentric foreigner
who habitually went about without stick or gloves in order
that he might keep his hands in his pockets, I waited for the
American to go.

Meanwhile, it >was quite impossible to avoid hearing what
was said by the keen-faced, square-shouldered, lumpy-toed,
baggy-trousered, large-hatted gentleman to the lady, what
time she chewed a cud of sweet recollection and Mangle's
Magnificent Masticating Gum or similar enduring comestible.

When at length he took his key and went, I turned to the girl.

" So you was raised in Baltimore ! " said I rapturously.
" Fancy that being your home town now ! Isn't it just the
cutest place ? Peachiest gals and bulliest cakes in Ainerica !
. . . Say, I reckon this gay Paree hasn't got anything on
little old New York ! " . . .

" My 1 " said the young lady. " D'you know Baltimore ?
You don't say ! " and she smiled sweetly upon me.

" Know Baltimore ! " said I, and left it at that. . . .
" Lots of Americans and English here, I suppose," I went on,
" since the hotel folk are wise (and lucky) enough to have
you in the bureau ? And I suppose you speak French aa well
as any Parisian ? "

" My, yes," she smiled. " Most as well as I speak good old
U.S. . . . Why, yes lots of home people and Britishers
here. . . . Most of our waiters can help 'em out too, when
they're stuck for the French of ' Yes, I'll have a highball,
Bo,' " and she tinkled a pretty little laugh.

" Guess that's fine," said I. " I want to turn in here for
a day or two. All upset at my place." (Very true, indeed.)
" Just to sleep and breakfast. Got a vacant location ? "

" Sure," said my fair friend, and glanced at an indicator.
" Troisieme Eighteen francs. No breakfast only four-
teen. Going up now ? " And she unhooked a key and passed
it to me with a brief " Deux cent vingt deux. The bell-hop
will show you."

164 BEAU GESTB

" Not bringing any stuff in," I said, and drew my entire
fortune from my pocket, as one who would pay whatevei
was desired in advance, and the more the merrier.

" Shucks," said my friendly damsel, and I gathered that
I was deemed trustworthy.

In the big book that she pushed to me I wrote myself down
as Smith, but clung to the " John," that there might be
something remnant and stable in a whirling and dissolving
universe.

" Guess 1*11 hike up and take possession now," said I there-
after, and with my best smile and bow I turned to the lift
before she could send to the hall-porter to dispatch a sup-
posititious suit-case to the spot.

The lift-boy piloted me to number two hundred and twenty-
two, where, safe inside, I bolted the door and drew breath.

" J'y suis, fy reste" said I, in tribute to my very French
surroundings ..." and the less they see of me below, the
less they'll notice my lack of luggage and evening kit."

It occurred to me that it might be worth the money to
buy a pair of pyjamas and have them sent to Monsieur Smith,
No. 222 Hotel Normandie. If I laid them out on the flat
square pillow that crowned the lace-covered bed, the chamber-
maid would not be so likely to comment on the paucity of my
possessions, particularly if I locked the wardrobe and pocketed
the key as though to safeguard a valuable dressing-case.

If I also avoided the dining-room, where, in my lounge-suit,
I should be extremely conspicuous among the fashionable
evening throng, I might well hope to dwell in peaceful
obscurity without rousing unwelcome interest and attention,
in spite of the inadequacy of my equipment.

I decided to sally forth, buy some pyjamas, order them to
be sent in at once, and then fortify myself with a two-franc
dinner and a glass of vin ordinaire probably trte ordinaire
in some restaurant.

After an uncomfortable wash in the lavabo, I strolled
nonchalantly forth, made my purchases, and enjoyed a good
and satisfying meal in a cheerful place situated in a somewhat
ignobler part of the Rue de Rivoli, at a little distance from
tli A fAflhinrmMp r.pnt;pp nf Paris.

THE GAT ROMANTICS 165

Returning to my over-furnished unhomely room, I spread
out the gay pyjamas which awaited me, and wondered when
the chamber-maid would come to turn down the bed. And
then I realised that I need have felt no anxiety, for I had only
to bolt the door and shout something when she came, and she
would depart in ignorance of my complete lack of luggage
and possessions.

However, I should not be able to keep her out in the morn-
ing, when I went in search of breakfast and the recruiting-
office, and then the pyjamas and the locked wardrobe would
play their part.

Even as I stood revolving these important trifles in my
youthful breast, the door opened and in burst a hard-featured
middle-aged woman. Any tiling less like the French chamber-
maid of fiction and the drama could not well be imagined ;
for she was fair-haired, grey-eyed, unprepossessing, and
arrayed in a shapeless black frock, plain apron, and ugly cap.

With a curt apology she flicked down a corner of the bed-
clothes, slapped the pyjamas down (in what is presumably
the only place whence a self-respecting hotel guest can take
them up), glanced at the unused washstand, and scurried
from the room.

As I heard her unlock the door of the next apartment,
almost before she had closed mine, I realised that she was far
too busy to concern herself with my deficiencies, and ceased
to worry myself on the subject.

Feeling that sleep was yet far from me, and that if I eat
long in that unfriendly room I should go mad, I descended
to the/wwoir, sought a big chair in a retired nook, and, from
behind a deplorable copy of La Vie Parisienne, watched the
frequenters of this apparently popular lounge.

Here I thought long thoughts of Isobel, my brothers, and
Brandon Abbas ; and occasionally wondered what would
happen on the morrow.

Nothing at all would happen until I had discovered the
procedure for enlisting in the Foreign Legion, and the dis-
covery of that procedure must be to-morrow's business.

Were I a romancer as well as a romantic, now would be the
moment for me to announce the dramatic entry of the French

166 BEAU OESTE

officer who had fired our young imaginations, years before,
and sown the seeds now bearing fruit.

As I sat there in the lounge of the Paris hotel, he would
enter and call for coffee and a cognac. I should go up to
him and say, " Monsieur le Capitaine does not remember me,
perhaps ? " He would rise, take my hand, and say, " Mon
Dieu ! The young Englishman of Brandon Abbas 1 " I
should tell him of my ambition to be a soldier of France, to
tread in his footsteps, to rise to rank and fame in the service
of his great country, and he would say, " Come with me and
all will be well. . . ."

Unfortunately he did not enter, and presently, finding
myself the last occupant of the lounge and inclined to yawn,
I crept unwillingly to bed. I fell asleep, trying to remember
his name.

3.

The next day was Sunday, and I spent it miserably between
the lounge and my bedroom.

On Monday morning, after a spongeless bath and an
unsatisfying petit dejeuner, I sallied forth and put myself in
the hands of an excellent barber, and, while enjoying his deft
ministrations, had a bright idea. I would pump this chatty
person.

" You don't know Algeria, I suppose ? " I asked the man.

" But no, Monsieur," he replied. " Is Monsieur going
there ? "

" I hope to," I said. " A magnificent colony of your great
country, that."

Ah, it was, indeed. Monsieur might well say so. A wonder-
ful achievement and the world's model colony. Growing too,
always growing. . . . This excellent penetration pacifique to
the South and towards Morocco. . . .

" They do the pacific penetration by means of the bayonets
of the Foreign Legion mostly, don't they ? " I asked.

The Frenchman smiled and shrugged.

" A set of German rascals," he said. " But they have their
uses. . . ."

" How do you get them ! " I asked.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 167

Oh, they just enlisted. Made their engagements volontaires,
like anybody else, at the head recruiting-office of the French
army in the Rue St. Dominique. Simply enlisted there and
were packed ofi to Africa. . . .

" But I thought service was wholly compulsory in this
country ? " said I. " How then do you have recruiting-
offices for a conscript army ? "

The worthy soul explained at length, and so far as I could
follow his swift ^ idiomatic talk, that any Frenchman could,
if he liked, volunteer for service before the time came when
he must serve, whether he liked it or not. Sometimes, for
business reasons, it was very convenient to get it over and
done with, instead of having it to do later, when one was
established. Hence the recruiting-office for the French army.
But no Frenchman could volunteer for tlie Legion until he
had done his compulsory service. . . .

I let him talk on, keeping the words Rue St. Dominique
clearly in my mind the while. I had got what I wanted, and
the sooner I found this recruiting-office the better, for funds
would soon be running low.

On leaving the shop I hailed a fiacre, said, " Rue
St. Dominique," and jumped in, excusing my extravagance by
my absolute ignorance of the route, and the need for haste.

Again I enjoyed the drive, feeling excited and buoyant,
and filled with the sense of adventure. After a time, I found
we were in what appeared to be the military quarter of Paris,
and I saw the Ecole MUitaire and some cavalry-barracks.
The streets were thronged with men in uniform, and my
heart beat higher and higher as the cab turned from the
Esplanade des Invalides into the Rue St. Dominique.

As the cocker looked round enquiringly at me, I thought it
would be as well to pay him ofi here at the corner.

Perhaps it might not be good form to drive up, in style,
to a recruiting-office, and, in any case, there was no need to
let the man know where I was going. . . .

I found the Rue St. Dominique to be a wholly uninspiring
thoroughfare, narrow, gloomy, and dingy in the extreme.

Walking along it and glancing from side to side, I soon found
the building of which I was in search.

168 BEAU GESTE

Over the door of a dirty little house was a blue-lettered
notice testifying that the place was the BUREAU DE REORUTE-
MENT. Below the label was the bald, laconic observation,
ENGAGEMENTS VOLONTAIRES.

Well, here then was my bureau of recruitment and here
would I make my "voluntary engagement," and if the
Path of Glory led but to the grave, its beginning was quite in
keeping with its end, for a more sepulchral-looking abode of
gloom than this ugly little government-office I have never
Been.

Crossing the road, I pushed open a rusty iron gate, un-
deterred by its agonised or warning shriek, crossed the
neglected cemetery garden of this gay place, thrust back a
swing door, and entered a long dark passage.

I could see no notice recommending all to abandon hope
who entered here, but my drooping spirits were unraised by
a strangling odour of carbolic, coal-gas, jand damp.

On the wall was a big placard which, in the sacred names
of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, offered to accept for
five years the services of any applicant for admission to
La Legion Etrangere (provided he was between the ages of
eighteen and forty), and to give him a wage of a halfpenny
a day.

There seemed to me to be little of Liberty about this
proposal, less of Equality, and least of Fraternity.

On the other hand, it was an engagement volontaire, and
anyone who didn't like the offer could leave it. No one was
compelled to accept it, and there was no deception on the
placard at any rate.

I read the notice through again, half hoping that while I
-did so, someone would come and ask my business, eome
Bound break the heavy smelly silence of Glory's cradle.

But none did, and "with well-feigned hopefulness I
pushed forth into the gloom."

Venturing on, I came to a kind of booking-office ticket-
window, above which were repeated the words Engagements
Volontaires.

I looked in, and in a severe office or orderly-room, beheld
an austere person in uniform, seated at a table and vriting

THE GAY ROMANTICS 169

busily. The two gold stripes above his cuff inclined me to
suppose that he was a non-commissioned officer, though of
what rank and eminence I knew not.

He ignored me and all other insects.

How to attract his attention ?

I coughed gently and apologetically. I coughed appeal-
ingly. I coughed upbraidingly, sorrowfully, suggestively,
authoritatively, meekly, imperiously, agreeably, hopefully,
hopelessly, despairingly, and quite vainly. Evidently I
should not cough my way to glory.

" Monsieur le Capitaine" I murmured ingratiatingly.

The man looked up. I liked him better when looking
down.

" Monsieur would appear to have a throat-trouble," he
observed.

" And Monsieur an ear-trouble," I replied, in my young
ignorance and folly.

" What is Monsieur's business ? " he enquired sharply.

" I wish to join the L&gion Etrangfrrej" I said.

The man smiled, a little unpleasantly, I thought.

" Eh, bien" he remarked, " doubtless Monsieur will have
much innocent amusement at the expense of the Sergeant-
Major there too," and I was quite sure that his smile was
unpleasant this time.

" Is Monsieur only a Sergeant-Major then ? " I enquired
innocently.

" I am a Sergeant-Ma j or," was the reply, " and let me tell
Monsieur, it is the most important rank in the French army."

" No ? " said I, and lived to learn that this piece of infor-
mation was very little short of the simple truth.

" Wait by that door, please," requested the Sergeant-
Major, indicating one marked Commandant de Rccrutement,
and I felt that he had also said, " Wait, just wait, my friend,
until you have enlisted."

I waited.

I should think I waited an hour.

Just as I was contemplating another visit to the buttery-
hatch or ticket-office window, the door opened and my friend,
or enemy, appeared.

170 BEAU GESTE

" Be pleased to enter, Monsieur," said he suavely, and I,
for some reason, or for no reason, bethought me of a poem of
childhood's happy days, entitled, " The Spider and the Fly,"
as I entered a large, bare orderly-room.

But it was no spider that I encountered within, but a courtly
and charming gentleman of the finest French type. I know
nothing of his history, but I am very sure that he was of those
who are " born," as the French say, and that if, in the Terror,
his great-grandfather did not perish on the guillotine, it was
not because he wasn't an aristocrat.

He was a white-haired, white-moustached, handsome man,
dressed in a close-fitting black tunic and baggy red over-alls
with a broad black stripe. His cuffs were adorned with bands
of gold and of silver braid, and his sleeves with the five galons
of a Colonel.

" A recruit for the Legion, mon Commandant" said the
Sergeant-Major, and stood stiffly at attention.

The Colonel looked up from the desk at which he was
writing, as, entering, I bared my head and bowed ; he rose
and extended his hand, with a friendly and charming smile.

Not thus, thought I, do British colonels welcome recruits
to the ranks of their regiments.

" And you, too, wish to enlist in our Foreign Legion, do
you ? " he said as we shook hands. " Has England started
an export trade in the best of her young men ? I don't
see many Englishmen here from year's end to year's end,
but you, mon enfant, are the third this week ! "

My heart gave a bound of hopeful joy. . . .

" Anything like me, sir ? " I asked.

" Au bout des ongles" was the reply. " Were they your
brothers by any chance ? . . . But I will ask no indiscreet
questions."

I felt happier than I had done since I had kissed Isobel.

" Yes, mon Commandant" I replied. " I wish to become
a soldier of France if you will have me."

" And do you understand what you are doing, Monsieur I "
asked the Colonel.

" I have read the placard outside," said I.

" It is not quite all set forth there," he smiled. " The life

THE GAY ROMANTICS 171

10 a very hard one. I would urge no one to adopt it, unless
he were a born soldier and actually desirous of a life of dis-
cipline, adventure, and genuine hardship."

No, this certainly was not a case of the spider and the fly
or it was an entirely new one, wherein the spider discouraged
flies from entering the web.

" I wish to join, sir," I said. " I have heard something of
the life in the Sahara from an officer of Spahis, whom I once
knew."

The Colonel smiled again.

" Ah, mon enfant" said he, " but you won't be an officer of
Spahis, you see. . . . Nor an officer of the Legion either,
except after some very long and lean years in the ranks and
as a non-commissioned officer."

" One realises that one must begin at the bottom, man
Commandant" I replied.

" Well listen then," said the Colonel, and he recited what
he evidently knew by heart from frequent repetition.

" The engagement volontaire for La Legion t^tr anger e is for five
years, in Algiers, or any other French colony, and the pay is
a sou a day. A legionnaire can re-enlist at the end of the five
years, and again at the end of ten years. At the end of fifteen
years he is eligible for a pension varying according to his
rank. A foreigner, on completion of five years' service, can
claim to be naturalised as a French subject. . . . You
understand all that, mon enfant ? "

" Yes, I thank you, mon Commandant" I replied.

" Mind," continued the Colonel, " I say nothing of what is
understood by the term ' service ' in the Legion. It is not
all pure soldiering at times.

" Nor do I say anything as to the number of men who
survive to claim the pension. . . ."

" I am not thinking of the pension, mon Commandant" I
replied ; " nor of the alleged ' pay/ so much as of a soldier's
life, fighting, adventure, experience. ..."

" Ah, there is plenty of that," said the Colonel. " Plenty
of that. It is a real military school and offers the good soldier
great and frequent chances of distinction, glory, decoration,
and promotion. Some of our most famous generals have been

172 BEAU GESTE

in the Legion, and several of the highest and most distinguished
officers of the Legion began their career in its ranks. . . .
Also, if you can show that you have been an officer in the
army of your own country, you can begin as a probationary-
corporal, and avoid the ranks altogether."

" Please accept me as a recruit, mon Commandant," said I.

" Ah, we'll see first what the doctor has to say about you
though there is little doubt about that, I should think/' smiled
the Colonel, and pulled a form towards him.

" What is your name ? "

" John Smith," said I.

"Age?"

" Twenty-one years " (to be on the safe side).

" Nationality English ? "

" Yes, mon Commandant"

" Very well. If you pass the doctor I shall see you again.
Au J voiV, Monsieur ," and with a curt nod to the Sergeant
Major, the Colonel resumed his writing.

The Sergeant-Major opened the door with a still suave
" This way, if you please, Monsieur," and led me across the
passage into a room already tenanted by half a dozen civilians,
whom I rightly supposed to be fellow-recruits for the Foreign
Legion.

I got a fleeting impression of seedy, poorer-class people,
two being brush-haired, fair, fattish, and undoubtedly Gte'man,
before the Sergeant-Major, opening another door in this
waiting-room, motioned me to enter a small closet, from
which another door led elsewhere.

" Remove all clothing, please," said the Sergeant-Major,
and shut me in.

This was unpleasant but presumably unavoidable, and I
obeyed. Before I had begun to shiver, the second door opened
and I was invited to submit myself to the close and searching
investigations of an undergrown but over-nourished gentle-
man, from beneath whose white surgical smock appeared the
baggy red trousers of the French army.

This official, presumably an army-surgeon, was easily able
to establish the belief in my mind that his ancestors had not
perished on the guillotine. (Certainly not during the Terror,

THE GAY ROMANTICS 173

anyhow). More probably they danced round it, or possibly
operated it.

When he had quite finished with my vile body, he bade
me replace it in the closet, clothe it, and remove it with all
speed. This, nothing loth, I did, and was re-conducted by
the Sergeant-Major to the Colonel's office.

'* Well, won enfant," smiled the old officer, "you are
accepted."

" And can I enlist at once, sir ? " I enquired eagerly.

" Not until you have slept on it," was the reply. " Come
here again to-morrow morning, if you are still of the same
mind, and I will enrol you. But think well think well.
And remember that, until you sign your name on the form
which I shall give you to-morrow, you are absolutely free,
and have committed yourself in no way whatsoever. Think
we ll think well. . . ."

And thanking him gratefully, I went from the room, hoping
that all French officers were of this stamp, as kindly and as
truly gentlemanly. My hope was not fulfilled.

In the corridor, the Sergeant-Major observed, " I sincerely
hope Monsieur will return," and as I assured him, with
thanks, that I should do so, I fancied, rightly or wrongly,
that his smile was a little mocking.

4.

Emerging from the stuffy gloom, I walked down the Rue
St. Dominique with a light, gay step. I could have danced
along, whistling and singing, for I felt practically certain that
Michael and Digby were but a day or two ahead of me upon
this romantic road, and that I might overtake them at any
moment. Probably they were both still in France, possibly
in Paris. Once I rejoined them, I should no longer feel this
deadly loneliness, and should have someone to whom to talk
about Isobcl.

Journeys end in lovers' meetings and but for this separa-
tion from her, there would not be the immeasurable joy of
our reunion.

Really I ought to be very thankful and very happy. I was

174 BEAU GESTB

about to rejoin Michael and Digby, and to live with them
again ; Isobel loved me and was awaiting my return ; and
I was on the threshold of a great adventure in an unknown
foreign land.

Knowing that I should, after to-morrow morning, live at the
charges of Madame la Rtpublique (albeit she seemed of a care-
ful and economical turn of mind), my funds were ample, and I
would take a, fiacre back to the fashionable quarter and spend
the rest of my last day of freedom in sight-seeing and idleness.

I would sit in the Tuileries Gardens, visit the Louvre, look
in the shops, have an outdoor meal in the Bois, and generally
behave as does the tourist who has a few hours and a few
francs to spend.

I carried out my programme, whiled away the day, and
crept up to my bedroom at night, too tired for anything but
the blessed dreamless sleep of healthy youth.

In the morning I paid my bill and departed from the Hotel
Normandie with a curious sense of escape. I did not in the
least mind becoming a halfpenny soldier and herding with all
sorts and conditions of men ; but I did dislike being in a
first-class hotel without my dinner-kit, a change of clothes,
and the small necessities of the toilet.

I again drove to the Rue St. Dominique, and, on the way,
endeavoured to talk to myself as though a person of wisdom
and experience were talking to another of sense and dis-
cretion. But I greatly fear that this is not what happens
when I address myself.

" You have only to stop this fiacre, turn about, and go back,"
said I to me, " and there is no harm done. You will still be
a free man, and can go back to Brandon Abbas as soon as
you like/*

But the only reply was, " Beau . . . Digby. . . . Stand
by your pals through thick and thin. Adventure : Romance s
Success : Fame and Fortune : and then England, Home, and
Isobel ..." and much similar youthful nonsense.

At the Bureau de Recrutement I was shown into a waiting-
room by the Sergeant-Major, who observed :

" Ah, Monsieur has come back then ! Good ! " and smiled
unattractively. Again I was reminded of a poem of early

THE GAY ROMANTICS 175

childhood, this time of a Lady of Riga who indulged in an
unorthodox joy-ride.

In the waiting-room were some of the men I had seen on
the previous day in the doctor's ante-chamber.

Among them were the Teutonic-looking pair, and I thought
it probable that if I suddenly called out " Waiter ! " or
" Garden I " they would both spring eagerly forward. They
looked very harmless, insignificant, and unattractive also
terribly poor. .

The rest were a mixed lot, Latins of sorts, apparently with
nothing in common but dire poverty. They did not seem in
the least ruffianly nor criminal, but just ordinary working-
men, desperately poor, and as anxious and worried as hungry,
homeless people always are.

It was rather curious to feel that whereas, a few minutes
ago, I had been a little uncomfortable by reason of iny sartorial
deficiencies, I now felt uncomfortable at being so obviously
a fashionably-clad and well-nourished member of a wholly
different class.

My well-cut and fairly-new clothing seemed to mock the
rags and general seedmess of these poor fellows, my future
comrades all of whom would very probably prove much
tougher soldiers than I should.

Before long, the Sergeant-Ma j or returned and bade me
follow him to the Colonel's office.

"Ah, mon enfant" said the old soldier, as I entered and
bowed, " so you have not thought better of it, eh ? Well,
well, you must now do as you please."

" I wish to enlist, mon Commandant" I replied.

" Then read this form and sign it," he said, with a distinct
sigh. " Remember though, that as soon as you have done
so, you will be a soldier of France, entirely amenable to
martial law, and without any appeal whatsoever. Your
friends cannot possibly buy you out, and your Consul cannot
help you, for five years. Nothing but death can remove you
from the Legion."

I glanced over the grey printed form, a contract by which
the signatory undertook to serve the French Republic for five
years, as a soldier in the L&gion Etrangfrre.

176 BEAU GESTE

Five years was a long time but Lsobel would only be
twenty-three at the end of it, and if Michael and Digby had
done this, I could do the same. ... It would be nice to
return, a Colonel at twenty-five, and take Isobel to my
regiment. ... I signed my name.

" A little error, mon enfant ? " smiled the Colonel, on read-
ing my signature. " Or you prefer this nom-de-guerre, doubt-
less t "

I had written " J. Geste " !

Blushing and looking a fool, I asked to be allowed to change
my mind and put my own name, and the kindly old gentle-
man, tearing up the form, gave me another which I signed
" John Smith."

" Now, my boy, listen to me," said the Colonel. " You are
a duly enlisted soldier of France and must join your regiment
at once. If you do not do so, you will be treated as a deserter.
You are to catch the Marseilles train from the Gare de Lyon
this evening nine-fifteen and report yourself to the non-
commissioned officer whom you will see waiting at the Mar-
seilles terminus. Should you fail to find him, ask any gendarme
to direct you to Fort St. Jean, and report yourself there.
Don't forget. Fort St. Jean, the military depot," and he
rose and extended his hand. " I wish you good luck and
quick promotion, mon enfant" he added. " Is there anything
else I can tell you ? "

" Do you always advise applicants to think better of it,
sir ? " I asked.

He looked at me a little sharply.

" I am not here to deter people from joining the Foreign
Legion," he said. ..." But some strike me as better suited
to the life than others," he added, with a kindly shake of the
hand. " Good-bye and good luck."

I thanked him and turned to commence my " ride on the
Tiger " (along the Path of Glory).

" Come with me, recruit," said the Sergeant-Major, as he
closed the door, " and move smartly."

In his office, he made out a railway-warrant for Marseilles,
and a form that proclaimed the bearer to be John Smith, a
soldier of the Legion, proceeding to the depot in Algeria.

THE GAT ROMANTICS 177

He then unlocked a drawer, produced a cash-box, and doled
out three francs on to the table.

" Subsistence-money, recruit," said he. " A squandering
of public funds. Three sous would be ample."

I added two francs to them.

" Let us part friends, Sergeant-Major," said I, for I hate
leaving ill-feeling behind me if I can avoid it.

" Recruit," replied he, pocketing the money, " you will
get on. . . . / you respect and please all Sergeant-Majors.
Good-bye."

And once more I found myself in the Rue St. Dominique,
but no longer a free man. I had, with my own hand, pad-
locked about my ankle a chain unbreakable, the other end of
which was somewhere in the desert of Sahara.

Having burnt my boats, I was quite anxious to push on,
and I found myself deciding to go by the next train, instead
of waiting till the evening. Had I realised that I was to sit
for eighteen hours on an uncushioned wooden seat, I might
have felt less eager. Eighteen hours the journey did last,
however, and each hour more wearisome than the one before.
I think the train must have visited every town and village
in France, and the entire population have clattered noisily into
my ancient, uncomfortable, unclean compartment, through-
out the night. Certainly I reached Marseilles feeling ancient,
uncomfortable, and unclean myself ; and, unlike the com-
partment, very empty.

It was a wretched journey, rendered no pleasanter by the
attentions of the guard, who, having seen from my railway-
warrant that I was going to the Legion, behaved somewhat
in the manner of a clever captor and skilful gaoler.

He was of a type of Frenchman that I do not like (there are
several of them), and though he refrained from actual re-
proaches and abuse, he made it clear to me that I could not
escape him, and to my fellow-travellers that they had a
possible danger in their midst. Not precisely a convict ;
nor, so far as he actually knew , an ex-convict ; but still, one
who was going to join the Foreign Legion.

On arrival at the terminus, this worthy soul saved me the
trouble of finding my non-commissioned officer, by himself

178 BEAU GESTE

finding the man and handing me over to him, with the air of
one who has deserved well of his country and of his kind.

"There I" said he to the Sergeant. "There he is! Another
little bird for your cage," and so depressed was I by hunger,
sleeplessness, and aching bones that I so far departed from
good manners and the equal mind as to say :

" Oh, for God's sake don't be such a funny little fat ass,"
but aa I spoke in English he may have thought that I did but
offer felicitations and regards.

I rather liked the look of the Sergeant. He was a dapper,
alert person, and his bronzed face, though hard as iron, was
not brutal nor vicious. He struck me as looking uncommonly
like a man. He wore the usual uniform of the French infantry,
but with a broad blue woollen sash round the waist, green
epaulettes instead of red, and Zouave trousers.

Looking me over with a cold official stare, he asked me
if I spoke French, and demanded my name, papers, and
nationality.

" Another Englishman," he remarked to my intense joy.
" Well it might have been worse."

" Are you alone ? " he enquired, and finding that I was,
so far aa I knew, bade me follow him.

Surely Michael and Digby were here, and I should see them
in the next few minutes. I cheered up tremendously.

He led the way out of the station and down into the busy
street and the exhilarating air and sunshine of Marseilles.

By the side of the taciturn Sergeant I walked, longing to
ask him about the " other Englishmen," whose recent arrival
he had implied by his exclamation, on hearing my nationality.

But his manner did not encourage polite converse, and,
truth to tell, I had an even deeper longing at the moment
for the appeasement of a very healthy appetite.

I waxed diplomatic.

" A Sergeant would not share a bottle of wine with a recruit,
I suppose, Monsieur ? " I asked as we passed an attractive-
looking caf 4, from beneath whose gay striped awnings marble-
topped tables and comfortable cane chairs shrieked an
invitation to rest and refreshment.

" Ho would not, 6few," was the reply. " Not only from

THE GAY ROMANTICS 179

a natural sense of superiority, but also because it would be
against the regulations. Neither is he addressed as ' Mon-
sieur/ He has a military rank, and he is saluted by those who
address him. . . . Some Sergeants, properly approached,
might refresh themselves, perhaps, while a deserving bleu did
the same. . . ."

I halted and saluted as though he were an officer. (Correct
procedure in the French army, I found.)

" Monsieur 1$ Sergent," said I, " will you honour me by
drinking a glass of wine at this restaurant while I get Borne
food ? I am very hungry," and I produced a five-franc piece.

" Be here in quarter of an hour, bleu' 1 was the reply, and
taking the coin the Sergeant crossed the road to a wine-shop,
as I promptly dived into the cafe* and hungrily devoured my
last civilian meal an excellent one in every detail, down to
the crisp rolls, fresh butter, and coffee worthy of the name.

I rose, feeling what Bigby would call " a better and a wider
man."

Sauntering out under the awning, and seeing nothing of
my Sergeant, I sat me down, filled and lighted my pipe, and
gazed about me. Fortified and refreshed, I felt by no means
unhappy.

I had not long feasted my eyes upon the novel and interest-
ing scene provided by the thronged thoroughfare, when the
Sergeant, crossing the road, approached. I rose promptly,
saluted smartly, and fell in beside him.

He eyed my clothes.

" Have you any more money, bleu ? " he asked.

" Yes, Sergeant," I replied, feeling a little disappointed
in him.

" Because if you have not, I shall return you three francs,"
quoth he.

I assured him that this was wholly unnecessary, though a
very kindly thought and regretted my suspicions.

" Well, I will give you some good advice instead then,"
gaid the worthy man.

I thanked him sincerely.

" Beware the Algerian wine then," he began. " The
blessing and the curse of the army of Africa. I have just

*SO BEAU GE8TB

drunk two bottles of it. Excellent. . . . Beware of women,
the blessing and the curse of all men. I have married three
of them. Terrible. . . ."

I gave my solemn promise to beware, to be very ware, and
neither to drink nor to marry to excess.

" Secondly, bleu'' he went on, " when things are bad, do
not make them worse, for they will be quite bad enough."

This also seemed sound advice, and I said so.

" And, thirdly resist the decrees of Heayen if you will,
but not those of your Corporal. ... Of course, no one would
dream of resisting the will of a Sergeant."

I agreed that no sane person would do this.

" Of course ! . . . But it is when you are insane that you
must be careful," warned my mentor.

"Insane?" I asked.

" Yes, bleu" was the reply. " All good legionnaires go
insane at times. Then they are apt to do one of the three
horrible things. Kill themselves, kill their comrades, or defy
a Sergeant."

" Why should they go insane ? " I enquired in some alarm.

" They shouldn't, but they do," said my mentor. " We
call it le cafard. The cockroach. It crawls round and round
in the brain, and the greater the heat, the monotony, the
hardship, the overwork, the over-inarching, and the drink
the faster goes the beetle and the more it tickles. . . .
Then the man says, * J'ai le cafard' and runs amok, or commits
suicide, or deserts, or defies a Sergeant. . . . Terrible. . . .
And do you know what is the egg of this beetle ? No ?
It is absinthe. Absinthe is the uncle and aunt of the grand-
parents of cafard. It is the vilest poison. Avoid it. I know
what I am saying. I was brought up on it. ... Terrible. . . .
I had some just now, after my wine. ..."

I promised never to look on the absinthe when it was green,
nor, indeed, when it was any other colour.

" Then you will not get real cafard" continued the worthy
man, " and you will not kill a comrade nor defy a Sergeant.
You will only commit suicide, or desert and die in the desert.**

" Did you ever do any of these terrible things, Monsieur le
Sergent ? " I asked.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 181

" No, bku. I did not even commit suicide," was the reply.
" I merely shaved my head, painted it red, white, and blue,
and was thus esteemed as a true patriot."

I began to think that two bottles of wine and an unspecified
quantity of absinthe had stimulated the Sergeant's imagina-
tion, but learnt later that what he told me was absolutely
true. (When engaged in repainting one of the striped sentry
boxes of the barracks or the outpost where he was stationed,
he had painted* one side of his shaven head red and the other
side blue, and separated these colours with a broad white
stripe. This had drrwn attention to him, and he had riveted
that attention by desperate courage and resource during the
operations and battle of Cinq Palmiers.)

" And what can one do to escape le cafard ? " I asked.

" Nothing," was the discouraging reply. " Mental occupa-
tion is good, and promotion is better. But in the desert,
while the Arab finds two things, the European finds three.
They are there, and, therefore, there they are. . . ."

I tried to look intelligent and enquiring.

" The Arab inevitably finds sun and sand too much of both.
The European inevitably finds sun, sand, and madness too
much of all three," he went on. " This madness ie in the air,
I suppose, or in the sun's rays. I do not know, even I, although
I know so much. And now you have talked more than is
seemly. Silence, bleu. . . ."

And I was silent, though inclined to ask why he addressed
me as " bleu" I did not feel particularly blue, and I was
quite sure I did not look blue in the slightest degree. (Later
I learnt that it is French army-slang for a recruit, and has as
much or little meaning as the English name of " rookie "
for the same class of soldier.) The use of my tongue being
now prohibited, I used my eyes instead, and enjoyed the
marvellous panorama of the Marseilles waterside, where
Arabs, .Negroes, Levantines, Chinese, Moors, Annamese,
Indians, and the lascars and seamen of the ships of all nations,
seemed as numerous as the French themselves.

I was reminded of the story of the Tower of Babel as
we made our way through the throng and round the
boxes, bales, sacks, barrels, trucks, carts, trolleys, and

18* BEAU GESTE

waggons over which the gesticulating crowds swarmed and
howled.

Among the sailing-ships, tramps, Oriental-looking barques,
yachts, brigs, schooners, cargo-boats, and liners, moored
along the quays, I kept looking for the English flag, flying at
the stern ; and was delighted as often as my eye fell upon it.

I had thought, at first, that all the ships must be French,
as each flew the Tri-couleur at the mast, until I realised that
this was complimentary to France, while the national flag
flew at the stern.

My head was beginning to ache with the noise, heat, hustle,
and eye-strain, when we arrived at our destination, a mediaeval
fort on the water's edge, obsolete and dilapidated, with an
ancient lighthouse tower, and a drawbridge, leading over a
moat to a great door.

One half expected to see that the sentries were halberdiers
in breastplate and jerkin, trunk hose, and peaked morion. . . .

" Here we are, and hence we are here," observed my
Sergeant. ..." Good-bye, 6feu, and may the devil admire
you."

"The same to you, Sergeant, and very many thanks,"
I replied.

To the Sergeant of the Guard at the gate he merely
remarked, " Recruit. Legion. Poor devil I " and turning,
departed, and I saw him no more.

" Follow me, you," said the Sergeant of the Guard, and led
the way along prison-like stone corridors, damp, mouldering,
echoing, and very depressing.

Halting at a door, he opened it, jerked his thumb in the
direction of the interior, and shut the door behind me as I
entered.

I was in my first French barrack-room.

Round the walls stood a score or so of cots and a number
of benches, the remaining furniture of the room being a big
table and a stove. Round the latter, at the table, on cots and
on benches, lounged a varied assortment of men in civilian
clothes clothes ranging from well-cut lounge-suits to corduroy
and rags.

Michael and Digby were not among these men, and I wad

THE GAY ROMANTICS 183

sensible of a deep feeling of bitter disappointment as I realised
the fact.

All these recruits looked at me, but though conscious of
their regard, I was much more conscious of the poisonous
foulness of the atmosphere of the room. It was horrible.

Every window was tightly shut, and every man (and the
charcoal stove) was smoking, so far as I could determine with
a rapid glance round the reeking place.

Presumably the men were smoking tobacco, but it was no
tobacco with which I was familiar. I was reminded of
gardeners' bonfires and smouldering rubbish.

Without thinking of what I was doing, I naturally and
instinctively turned to the nearest window, manfully wrestled
with it, and succeeded in throwing it open.

I am not in a position categorically to affirm that this was
positively the first time that a window had ever been opened
in Fort St. Jean, but it might well have been, to judge by
the interest, not to say consternation, evoked by my simple
action. What would have happened to me had a corporal
or old soldier been present, I do not know.

At the table a group of three or four men who were playing
cards, seemed to take umbrage at my action or my audacity.
Their ejaculations sounded like those of great surprise mingled
with resentment. One of them rose and turned towards me.

" You do not like the atmosphere of our little nest, perhaps?"
he said, unpleasantly, and with a threatening and bullying
note in his voice.

" No," I replied, and looking him carefully up and down,
added, " Nor you either. What are you going to do about
it?"

This was ill-mannered of me. I admit it. I was bringing
my style to the level of this unpleasant-looking individual.
But it seemed to me to be the best level on which to meet
him. I thought it a sound plan to begin as I meant to go on,
and I had not the least intention of allowing that going-on
to include any undue Christian meekness. I was the last
person in the world to bully anybody, and I intended to be
the last person to be bullied.

I did not wish to begin by making an enemy, but still less

184 BEAU GESTE

did I wish to begin by allowing the establishment of any sort
of ascendancy on the part of a fellow-recruit.

" Oho ! You don't like the look of me, don't you ? " said
the fellow, advancing.

" Not a bit," said I, looking him over appraisingly, and then
" staring him out " as we used to say in the nursery.

I could not quite " place " the individual. He certainly
was not a workman and he was not a prince in disguise.
A clerk, or shopman, probably, I thought, a&d learned later
that he was a French petty official named Vogu6, " rehabilitat-
ing " himself recovering his papers and civic rights by five
years' Legion service, after conviction of defalcation, and a
light sentence.

" You want that window open ? " he said, changing the
subject.

' Monsieur is intelligent," said I.
1 Suppose I want it shut ? J> he enquired.
' Come and shut it," said I, with disgraceful truculence.
' Suppose we all want it shut ? " he hedged.
1 Then there is an end of the matter," I replied. " If the
majority prefer to poison themselves, they have a perfect
right to do so."

" Come back and be quiet, Nosey," called one of the card-
players, and he returned, grumbling.

I seated myself on the cot nearest to the open window, and
put my hat on the dirty straw-stuffed pillow. . . . What next?

" Like the ceiling raised any ? " enquired a quiet drawling
voice behind me, in English.

Turning, I regarded the ceiling.

" No," I said, " it will do," and studied the speaker.

He was lying at full length on the next cot, a very small,
clean-shaven man with a prominent nose and chin, a steel-
trap mouth, and a look of great determination and resolution.
His eyes were a very light grey, hard and penetrating, his
hair straw-coloured and stubbly, his face sallow, lantern-
jawed, and tanned. He looked a ha- d case and proved to be
what he looked.

" How did you know I was English ? " I asked as he stared
thoughtfully at me.

THB GAY ROMANTICS 185

" What eke ? " he replied, deliberately. " Pink and white.
* . . Own the earth. . . . ' Haw ! Who's this low fellah ?
Don* know him, do I ? ' . . . Dude. , . . * Open all the windahs
now I've come / ' . . . British ! "

I laughed.

" Are you an American ? " I enquired.

" Why " he replied.

" What else ? " I drawled. " Sure thing, stranger: . . .
Don't care who ..owns the earth. . . . Great contempt for the
effete English. . . . Tar and feathers. . . . Stars and Stripes.
. . . ' / come from God's Own Country and I guess it licks
Creation.' . . . Uneasy self-assertion. ..."

The American smiled. (I never heard him laugh.)

" Bo," said he, turning to the next cot, " here's a Britisher
insulting of our pore country. . . . Handin' out the rough
stuff. . . . Fierce, ain't it ? "

A huge man slowly turned from contemplation of the
ceiling, raised his head, ceased chewing, and regarded me
solemnly. He then fainted with a heartrending groan.

" Killed ray pard, you hev," said the little man. " He's
got a weak heart. . . . Damn sight weaker head though,
haven't you, Bo ? " he added, turning to his friend, who had
recovered sufficiently to continue his patient mastication
either of tobacco or chewing-gum.

Lying there, Bo appeared to be some seven feet in length,
four in breadth, and two in depth.

In face he greatly resembled the small man, having the same
jutting chin, prominent nose, tight mouth and hard leathery
face. His eyes were of a darker grey, however, and his hair
black and silky.

He also looked a hard case and a very bad enemy. Con-
versely though, I gained the impression that he might be a
very good friend. Indeed, I liked the look of both of them,
in spite of the fact that I seemed to fill them with a sort of
amused contempt.

" Ses you suffers from oneasy self-insertion, Hank/' went
on the little man.

" Ain't inserted nawthen to-day, Buddy," replied the giant
mildly. " Nary a insert. I'm oneasy in me innards, but it

180 BEAU GESTE

ain't from what you ses, Stranger. Nope. I could Insert
a whole hog right now, and never notice it."

" Don't go fer ter rile the Britisher, Hank, with yer silly
oontradicshusness," implored the other. " He don* like it,
an* he don* like us. You don* want ter go gittin' inter no
trouble. So shet up and go on sufferuY from oneasy self-
insertion."

" Means well," continued the speaker, turning to me,
" but he ain't ct nawthen excep' cigarette-ends for three or
four days, an* ho ain't at his best."

I stared. Was it possible that they were really hungry ?
Certainly they looked lean and haggard enough to be starving.

I had felt quite bad enough an hour or two ago, after missing
a single meal. ... I should havo to go carefully if I wanted
to give food, and not offence.

" Would you gentlemen lunch with me ? " I asked, diffi-
dently. " Brothors-in-arms and all that. . . ."

Two solemn faces turned and regarded me.

" Ho'a calling you a gentleman, Hank," said the little
man at length. " He don' mean no real harm though. He's
talkin* English to you. . . . Hark ! . . . You listen and improve
your mind."

I made another effort. " Say," quoth I, " I gotta hunch
T wanta grub-stake you two hoboes to a blow-out. Guess
I can cough up the dough, if yew ain't too all-fired proud to
be pards with a dod-gasted Britisher." A good effort, I
thought.

" Gee ! " said Hank, and they rose as one man.

" Put it right there, son," said the big man, extending the
largest hand I have ever seen.

I took it, and in the crushing-match that ensued, endeavoured
to hold my own. It was a painful business, and when I limply
took the horny fist of Buddy in turn, I was handicapped in
the squeezing competition. However, I was able to give him
a worthy grip, though his hand was stronger than mine.

" Where can we get something ? " I asked, and Buddy said
there was certain to be a canteen about. He had never yet
heard of a case where a thirsty soldier, with money, was not
given every encouragement to get rid of it.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 187

" I can't drink till I've et, pard," said Hank to me.
" 'Twouldn't be right. If I drinks on an empty stummick,
I gets onreasonablo if interfered with by the bulls. . , . Bash
a sheriff or somethin'. . . . When I ain't starving lickker
on'y makes me more and more lovin' to all mankind. Yep,
I gotta eat first."

" They'll have eats in the canteen," opined Buddy, " even
in this God-fersaken section."

At that moment, the door of the room was thrown open by
a soldier, and he entered carrying one end of a long board on
which stood a row of tin bowls. Another soldier appeared at
the other end, and together they bawled, " Soupe ! "

It was invitation enough, and both the long arms of Hank
shot out, and, in a moment, he was on his bed, a bowl in either
hand.

Buddy followed his example.

I looked round. There appeared to mo to be more bowls
than there were people in the room. I snatched two, before
the rush of hungry men from other parts of the room arrived
with outstretched hands.

This disgusting exhibition of greed on my part cannot be
excused, but may be condoned as it was not made in my own
interests. I was not hungry, and the look of the stuff was not
sufficiently tempting for me to eat for eating's sake. By the
time I reached my cot, Hank had emptied one bowl, and was
rapidly emptying the other.

" Gee ! That's what I come to the Legion for," he said, with
a sigh of content. When he had finished, I offered him one
of my two.

" Fergit it," said he.

" I want to," said I.

He stared hard at me.

" Not hungry," I assured him.

" Honest Injun ? " he asked doubtfully, but extending his
hand.

" Had a big breakfast an hour ago," said I. " I never take
soup in the middle of the morning. I got this for you and
Mr. er . . ."

" Buddy," said the little man and took the other bowl.

188 , BEAU GESTE

Hank swallowed his third portion.

" You're shore white, pard," he said.

" Blowed-in-the-glass," agreed Buddy, and I felt I had two
friends.

A large German lumbered up gesticulating, and assailed
Hank.

" You eat dree 1 " he shouted in guttural English. " I only
eat vun 1 Himmel 1 You damn dirdy tief ! "

" Sure thing, Dutchy," said Buddy. " D c on't yew stand
fer it ! You beat him up. You make him put it back."

The German shook a useful-looking fist under Hank's nose.

" I cain't put it back, Dutch," said he mildly. " 'Twouldn't
be manners," and, as the angry German waxed more aggres-
sive, he laid his huge and soupy hand upon the fat angry face,
and pushed.

The German staggered back and fell heavily, and sat
looking infinitely surprised.

" Now, pard," said Hank to me, " I could shore look upon
the wine without no evil efEecks to nobody," and we trooped
out in search of the canteen.

The big gloomy quadrangle of Fort St. Jean was now crowded
with soldiers of every regiment of the army of Africa, the
famous Nineteenth Army Corps, and, for the first time, I saw
the Spahis of whom the French officer had talked to us at
Brandon Abbas.

Their trousers were voluminous enough to be called skirts,
in fact one leg would have provided the material for an ample
frock. Above these garments they wore sashes that appeared
to be yards in length and feet in width. In these they rolled
each other up, one man holding and manipulating the end,
while the other spun round and round towards him, winding
the sash tightly about himself as he did so.

Gaudy waistcoats, zouave jackets, fez caps, and vast scarlet
cloaks completed their picturesquely barbaric costumes.

Besides the Spahis were blue-and-yellow Tirailleurs, pale
blue Chasseurs d'Afrique, and red-and-blue Zouaves, blue
Colonial Infantry, as well as artillerymen, sappers, and
soldiers of the line, in their respective gay uniforms.

There was a babel of noise and a confusing turmoil as these

THE GAY ROMANTICS 189

leave-men rushed about in search of pay-corporals, fourrier-
sergents, kit, papers, food, and the canteen. The place was
evidently the clearing-house and military hotel for all soldiers
coming from, or returning to, the army of Africa.

Following the current that flowed through this seething
whirlpool, in the direction of a suggestive-looking squad of
huge wine-casks that stood arrayed outside an open door,
we found ourselves in the canteen and the presence of the
national drink, good red wine.

" No rye-whiskey at a dollar a drink here, Bo," observed
Buddy, as we made our way to a zinc-covered counter, and
found that everybody was drinking claret at three -half pence
the bottle. " Drinks are on you, pard. Set 'em up."

"Gee! It's what they call' wine/ "sighed Hank. "Gotta
get used to it with the other crool deprivations and hardships,"
and he drained the tumbler that I filled.

" It is lickker, Bo," replied Buddy tolerantly, and drained
another.

It was, and very good liquor too. It struck me as far better
wine than one paid a good deal for at Oxford, and good enough
to set before one's guests anywhere.

Personally I am a poor performer with the bottle, and
regard wine as something to taste and appreciate, rather than
as a thirst-quenching beverage.

Also I freely confess that the sensation produced by more
than enough, or by mixing drinks, is, to me, most distasteful.

I would as soon experience the giddiness caused by spinning
round and round, as the giddiness caused by alcohol. More
than a little makes me feel sick, silly, depressed, and un-
comfortable, and I have never been able to understand the
attraction that intoxication undoubtedly has for some
people.

It is therefore in no way to my credit that I am a strictly
sober person, and as little disposed to exceed in wine as in
cheese, pancakes, or dry toast.

" Quite good wine," said I to the two Americans, " but I
can't say I like it as a drink between meals."

I found that my companions were of one mind with me,
though perhaps for a different reason.

190 BEAU GESTE

" Yep," agreed Buddy. " Guess they don't allow no in-
toxicatin' hard lickkers in these furrin canteens."

" Nope," remarked Hank. " We gotta s waller this an* be
thankful. P'r'aps we kin go out an* have a drink when we git
weary-like. . . . Set 'em up again, Bo," and I procured them
each his third bottle.

" You ain't drinking pard," said Buddy, eyeing my half-
emptied first glass.

" Not thirsty," I replied.

" Thirsty ? " said Hank. " Don' s'pose there's any water
here if you was," and feeling I had said the wrong thing,
covered my confusion by turning away and observing the
noisy, merry throng, drinking and chattering around me.
They were a devil-may-care, hard-bitten, tough-looking
crowd, and I found myself positively looking forward to being
in uniform and one of them.

As I watched, I saw a civilian coming from the door to-
wards us. I had noticed him in the barrack-room. Although
dressed in an ill-fitting, shoddy, shabby blue suit, a velvet
tam-o'-shanter, burst shoes, and apparently nothing else,
he looked like a soldier. Not that he had by any means the
carriage of an English guardsman far from it but his face
was a soldier's, bronzed, hard, disciplined, and of a family
likeness to those around.

Coming straight to us, he said pleasantly, and with only the
slightest foreign accent :

" Recruits for the Legion ? "

" Yes," I replied.

" Would you care to exchange information for a bottle ? "
he asked politely, with an ingratiating smile which did not
extend to his eyes.

" I should be delighted if you will drink with us/' I replied,
and put a two -franc piece on the counter.

He chose to think that the money was for him to accept,
and not for the fat little man behind the bar to change.

" You are a true comrade," said the new-comer, " and will
make a fine Ugionnaire. There are a dozen bottles here,"
and he spun the coin. " Now ask me anything you want to
know/' and he included the two stolid Americans in the

THE GAY ROMANTICS 191

graceful bow with which he concluded. He was evidently
an educated and cultured person and not English.

" Sure," said Hank. " I wants ter know when we gite our
next eats."

" An 1 if we can go out and git a drink," added Buddy.

" You'll get soupe, bread, and coffee at about four o'clock,
and you won't be allowed to leave here for any purpose what-
ever until you are marched down to the boat for Oran," was
the prompt reply.

His hearers pursed their lips in stolid silence.

" When will that be ? " I asked.

" To-morrow by the steam-packet, unless there is a troop-
ship going the day after," answered the new-comer. " They
ship the Legion recruits in ah dribbles ? dribblings ?
driblets ? Yes, driblets by every boat that goes."

" Suppose a friend of mine joined a day or two before me,"
I asked, " where would he be now, do you suppose ? "

"He is at Fort St. Th6r&se at Oran now," was the reply.
" And may go on to Saida or Sidi-bel-Abbes to-morrow or
the next day. Sidi, probably, if he is a strong fellow."

" Say, you're a walking encyclopedestrian," remarked
Buddy, eyeing the man speculatively, and perhaps with more
criticism than approval.

" I can tell you anything about the Legion," replied the
man in his excellent refined English about which there was
no accent such as that of a Londoner, north-countryman,
or yokel, but only a slight foreign suggestion " I am an old
Ugionnaire, rejoining after five years' service and my dis-
charge."

" Speaks well for the Legion," I remarked cheerfully.

" Or ill for the chance of an ex-Ugionnaire to get a crust of
bread," he observed, less cheerfully.

" Been up against it, son ? " asked Hank.

"Starved. Tramped my feet off. Slept in the mud.
Begged mystlf hoarse for work. . . . Driven at last to
choose between gaol and the Legion. ... I chose the Legion,
for some reason. . . . Better the devils that you know than
flee to the devils that you know not of. . . ."

" Guy seems depressed," said Hank.

192 BEAU GESTE

" May I finish your wine ? " went on the man. " It would
be a sin to waste it."

" Pray do," said I, surprised ; and reminded myself that
I was no longer at Oxford.

" You speak wonderful English," I remarked.

" I do," was the reply ; " but better Italian, Hindustani,
and French. Legion French, that is."

" An' how's that, ole hoss ? " enquired Buddy.

" Father an Italian pastry-cook in Bombay. Went to an
English school there, run by the Jesuit Fathers. Talked
Hindustani to my ayah. Mother really talked it better than
anything else, being what they call a country-bred. Daughter
of an English soldier and an Eurasian girl. Got my French in
the Legion, of course," explained the stranger.

And then I was unfortunate, in that I partly blundered and
partly was misunderstood. What I meant to say, for the sake
of being conversational, was :

" And how did you come to find yourself in Africa, so very
far from home ? " or something chatty like that. What I
actually did say was :

" Why did you join the Legion ? " which sounded very bald.

" For the same reason that you did. For my health," was
the sharp reply, accompanied by a cold stare.

I had done that which is not done.

" And did you find it healthy ? " enquired Buddy.

" Not exactly so much heal/% as heUwA," replied the
Italian in brief and uncompromising style, as he drained his
glass (or perhaps mine).

We all three plied him with questions, and learned much
that was useful and more that was disturbing. We also
gathered that the gentleman was known as Francesco Boldini
to his friends, though he did not say by what name the police
knew him.

I came to the conclusion that I did not like him extra-
ordinarily much ; but that in view of his previous experience
he would be an exceedingly useful guide, philosopher, and
friend, whose knowledge of the ropes would be well worth
purchasing.

I wished I could send him on ahead for the benefit of my

THE GAY ROMANTICS 193

brothers, who had, I felt certain, come this way two or three
days before me. Indeed, I refused to believe otherwise or
to face the fact of my crushing disappointment and horrible
position if they had not done so. I was aroused from thoughts
of what might, and might not, be before me by a tremendous
uproar as the artillerymen present united in roaring their
regimental song :

** Si vou$ voulcz jouir des plaisirs de la vie,
Engagcv vous id, et dans I'artillerie.
Quand Fartilleur de Metz change de garnison,
Toutrs Usfemmes th Metz se mettent an balcon,
Artilleur, mon vieux frere,
A ta santt vidons nos vcrres ;
Et rej &ons ce yai refrain :
Vivent Us ArtilUurs ; d bas Its ja-ntassint . . ."

and much more.

When they had finished and cheered themselves hoarse, a
little scoundrelly-looking fellow sprang on a barrel and sang
i\ remarkably seditious and disloyal ditty, of which the chorus,
apparently known to all, was :

" Et quand ilfaut servir ce Ion Dieu de Republiqut,
Ou tout U vwnde est toldat malgrtson consentcment,
On nous envoi grossir Us Bataillons d'Afriquc,
A cause que Us Joycux saimcnt pas le gouvcrnem<,i\t t
C?c*l nous Us Joyeux,
Lts pttits Joyeux,
Let petit* marlous Joyeux qui n'ont pat froid aux yeux. . . .

At the conclusion of this song of the battahon of convicted
criminals (known as the Bataillon d'Infanterie Ughe d'Afriquc,
or, more familiarly, as the " Bat d'Af"), the men of the
Colonial Infantry, known as Marsouins, lifted up their voicea
in their regimental song. These were followed by others,
until I think I heard all the famous marching-songs of the
French army including that of the Legion, sung by Boldini.
It was all very interesting indeed, but in time I had had
enough of it. ...

When we returned to the barrack-room, on the advice of
Boldini, to be in time for the evening meal, I formally retained
7

194 BEAU GESTE

that experienced and acquisitive gentleman as guide, courier,
and mentor, with the gift, of ten francs and the promise of
such future financial assistance as I could give and he should
deserve.

" I am sorry I cannot spare more just at present," said I,
in unnecessary apology for the smaUness of the retaining fee ;
and his reply was illuminating.

" Ton francs, my dear sir," he said, " is precisely two hun-
dred days' pay to a legionnaire. . . . Seven months' income.
Think of it ! " . . .

And I thought of it.

Decidedly I should need considerable promotion before
being in a position to marry and live in comfort on my pay. . . .

5.

" Dinner," that evening, at about five o'clock, consisted of
similar *' soupe" good greyish bread, and unsweetened,
milkless coffee. The first came, as before, in tin basins, called
" gamelles " ; the second was thrown to us from a basket;
and the coffee was dipped from a pail, in tin mugs.

The eoupt was a kind of etew, quite good and nourishing,
but a little difficult to manipulate without spoon or fork.
I found that my education was, in this respect, inferior to
that of my comrades. After this ineal during which the
Gorman eyed our party malevolently, and Vogue, the gentle-
man who had objected to my opening the window, alluded
to me as a " sacred nicodime," whatever that may be there
was nothing to do but to adjourn once more to the canteen.

Here it was my privilege to entertain the whole band from
the barrack-room, and I was interested to discover that both
the German, whose name proved to be Clock, and the un-
pleasing Vogue, were both charmed to accept my hospitality,
and to drown resentment, with everything else, in wine.

It is quite easy to be lavishly hospitable with wine at about
a penny a pint.

Fun grew fast and furious, and I soon found that I was
entertaining a considerable section of the French army, as
well as the Legion's recruits.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 195

I thoroughly enjoyed the evening, and was smitten upon
the back, poked in the ribs, wrung by the hand, embraced
about the neck, and, alas, kissed upon both cheeks by Turoo,
Zouave, Tirailleur, Artilleur, Marsouin, and Spahi, even before
the battalion of bottles had been routed by the company of men.

I noticed that Boldini waxed more foreign, more voluble,
and more unlovable, the more he drank.

If he could do anything else like a gentleman, he certainly
could not carry Jiis wine like one.

" Sah ! " he hiccupped to me, with a strident laugh,
" farmerly arlso there were a gross of bahtles and few men,
and now arlso there are only gross men and a few bahtles ! "
and he smote me on the back to assist me to understand the
jest. The more he went to pieces under the influence of
liquor, the more inclined was I to think he had a larger
proportion of Oriental strain than he pretended.

1 liked him less and less as the evening wore on, and I liked
him least when he climbed on the zinc-covered counter and
sang an absolutely vile song, wholly devoid of humour or of
anything else but offence. I am bound to admit, however,
that it was very well received by the audience.

" What you t'ink of thatt, sah ? " he enquired, when he
had finished.

I replied that I preferred not to think of it, and proposed
to address him in future as Cloaca Maxima.

Meanwhile, Hank and Buddy, those taciturn, observant,
non-committal, and austerely- tolerant Americans, made hay
while the sun of prosperity shone, drank more than any two
of the others, said nothing, and seemed to wonder what all
the excitement was about, and what made the " pore
furriners " noisy.

" Ennybody 'ud think the boobs hed bin drinkin'," observed
Buddy at last, breaking a long silence (his own silence, that
is, of course). To which remark Hank replied :

" They gotta pretend thisyer wine-stuff is a hard drink,
an' act like they got a whiskey- jag an* was off the water-
waggon. Only way to keep their sperrits up. ... Wise
guys too. You'd shore think some of 'em had bin drinkin 1
lickker. . . .

1W BEAU GESTB

11 Gee! . . . There's 'Taps!" he added, as the "Lights
out " bugle blew in. the courtyard, and the company broke
up, " an* we gotta go to bed perishin' o' thirst, fer want of a
drink. . . ."

Back to our barrack-room we reeled, singing joyously.

As I sat on my cot undressing, a little later, Buddy came
over to me and said, in a low voice :

" Got 'ny money left, pard ? "

" Why, yes. Certainly,*' I replied. " You're most welcome
to . . ."

" Welcome nix," was the reply. " If you got 'ny money
left, shove it inside yer piller an* tie the. end up or put it
inside yer little vest an* lie on it. . . ."

"IJardly necessary, surely? " said I. "Looks rather un-
kind and suspicious, you know. . . ."

" Please yerself, pard, o f course," replied Buddy, *' and let
Mister Oompara Tarara Cascara Sagrada get it," and he glanced
meaningly at Boldini, who was lying, fully dressed, on his cot.

" Oh, nonsense," said I, " he's not as bad as all that. . . ."

Buddy shrugged his shoulders and departed.

" I gotta evil mind," he remarked as he did so.

I finished undressing, got into the dirty sheetlcss bed, put
my money under my pillow, and then lay awake for a long
time, dreaming of Isobel, of Brandon Abbas, and, with a
iense of ultra mystification, of the wretched " Blue Water "
and its mysterious fate. . . .

Only last Wednesday. . . . Only eight people one of
Thorn it obviously must be. . * . A wretched vulgar thief. . . .
And where were Michael and Digby new ? Were they to-
gether, and only forty-eight hours ahead of mo on the Path
of Glory, which, according to Boldini, led to the grave with a
certainty and a regularity bordering upon monotony ? . . ,
I fell asleep. . . .

I waa awakened in the morning by the shrilling^of bugles.

A corporal entered the room, bawled :

" Levez-wus done ! Levez-wu* dom I " at the top of his
TOice, and departed.

I partly dressed, and then felt beneath my pillow for my
money.

THE GAT ROMANTICS 197

It was not there.

I felt savage and sick. Robbed I ... The beastly
curs. . . .

" Here it is," said the voice of Buddy behind me. " Thought
I'd better mind it when I aheered yore nose-sighs. . . . Shore
enuff, about four a.m. this morning, over comes Mister
Cascara Sagrada to see how youse agettin' on. . . . ' Att
right, Bo, 1 ses I, speakin' inncrcent in me slumbers, ' I'm
amindin 1 of it, 1 1.sos. . . ."

" No ? " said I, " not really ? "

" You betcha," replied Buddy, " an* Mister Cascara
Sagrada says, * Oh, I thought somebody might try to rob him,'
he says. . . . * So did /,' I says, ' And I was right too, 1 1 says,
an* the skunk scoots bark to his hole. 11

" Thanks, Buddy," I said, fueling foolish, as I took the
notes and coins.

" I tried to put you wise, Bo," he replied, " and now you
know."

Curiously enough, it did not enter my mind to doubt the
truth of what he had told me.

After a breakfast-lunch of soupe and broad, we were ordered
by a sergeant to assemble in the courtyard.

Here he called the roll of our names, and those of a freshly-
arrived draft of recruits ; formed us in fours, and marched
us to the bassin, where; a steamer of the Alessageries Maritime*
line, the General Ne.gricr, awaited us.

We were herded to the fo'c'sle of this aged packet, and
bidden by the corporal, who was going in charge of us, to use
the ocean freely if we should chance to feel unwell, as it was
entirely at our disposal.

" ' We have fed our seas for a thousand years,' " thought
I, and was grateful that, on this glorious day, the sea did not
look at all hungry.

But if the sea were not. we soldiers of misfortune un-
doubtedly* were. Very hungry, indeed, and as the hours
passed, we grew still hungrier. Towards evening, the Chateau
d'lf and the tall lighthouse having been left far behind,
murmurs on the subject of dinner began to be heard. We
loafed moodily about the well-deck, between the fo'c'sle and

198 BEAU GESTE

the high midship bridge structure, talking both in sorrow and
in anger, on the subject of food.

Personally I thought very regretfully of the dining-room
at Brandon Abbas, and of the dinner that was even then being
served therein. Tantalising odours were wafted to us from
the saloon below the bridge, and our ears were not unaware of
the stimulating rattle of plates and cutlery.

" When shall we get something to eat ? " I asked Boldini,
as he emerged from the fo'c'sle hatch.

" By regulations we should have had soupe, bread, and half
a litre of wine at five o'clock," he replied. " Quite likely the
cook is going to make a bit out of us, for these swine often
do. . . ."

However, there was activity, I observed, in the cook's
galley, near the foVsle the cook-house in which the sailors'
food was preparedso we hoped for the best while fearing
the worst.

An hour later, when we were an hour hungrier and angrier,
Hank's usually monumental patience had dwindled to im-
perceptibility.

" Here, you, Cascara," quoth he, pushing into the knot of
men in the centre of which Boldini harangued them on their
rights and the cause of their present wrongs, " you know the
rules of this yer game. Why ain't we got no eats yet ? "

44 Because this thieving swine of a son of a sea-cook is going
to make a bit out of us," replied Boldini.

" Thet so, now ? " observed Hank mildly. " Then I allow
he ain't agoin' ter live to enjy it. Nary a enjy. So he can
tell himself Good-bye, for he ain't goin' to see himself no more,
if I don't get no dinner. Nope. . . ."

I gathered from Boldini that it would be quite impossible
for me to get at the corporal, as I proposed to do, since he
was away in the second-class quarters, and I should be
prevented from leaving the foVsle if I tried to do so.

" But I can let you have a roll," he said, " if it is worth a
franc to you. I don't want to starve, you know," and his
pleasant smile was a little reminiscent of the Wicked Uncle
in my nursery-tale book of the Babes in the W r ood.

It appeared that, anticipating just what had happened, he

THE GAY ROMANTICS 199

had secreted four rolls when breakfast was served at Fort
St. Jean that morning. I gave him three francs, and a roll
each to Hank and Buddy.

41 You have a great soul, Boldini," I remarked, on pur-
chasing the bread, and was distressed at the unkindly guffaw
emitted by Buddy at my words. An hour or so later, all
signs of activity having ceased to render the cook-house
attractive, it seemed but too true that food was not for us.
The mob of retfruits grumbled, complained, and cursed in
half a dozen languages. Darkness fell, and Hank arose.

A huge greasy creature, grossly fat, filthily dirty in clothes
and person, and with a face that was his misfortune, emerged
from the cooking- house. He eyed us with sourest contempt.

I suggested to Boldini that the scoundrel might sell us what he
ought to have given us. Boldini replied that this was precisely
what would happen, on the morrow, when we were really
hungry provided we had money and chose to pay his prices.

Hank strode forward.

" Thet Slushy ? " he enquired softly.

" That's the swine," replied Boldini.

" Come and interpretate then," requested Hank, and
marched up to the cook, closely followed by Buddy.

" When do we get our doo an* lawful eats, Slush 1 " he
asked mildly.

The cook ignored him utterly and turned to go in lofty
silence, but a huge hand shot out and sank with the grip of
a vice into the fat of his bulging neck, another seized his wrist,
and he was run aa a perambulator is run by a child, straight
to the side of the ship.

" Ask the pore gink if he can swim any," requested Hank,
holding the man's head over the side.

Boldini did so.

The gink kicked out viciously, but made no other reply.

" Up wij,h it, Bud attaboy ! " whooped Hank, and Buddy
diving at the agitated legs, gathered them in, and raised them
on to the taffrail.

The crowd of recruits cheered joyously.

I thought the man was really going overboard, and begged
them not to waste a perfectly good cook.

200 BEAU GESTE

" Sure," said Hank. " He's gotta get us some grub first,"

and they threw the cook on the deck un-gently.

The man lumbered to his feet, and, again seizing him, Hank
ran him to the galley and threw him through the door.

" Cookez-vous, pronto I " quoth he, and the cook seized a
heavy iron saucepan and rushed out again.

But alas, it was as a weapon and not as a utensil that he
wished to use it. Swinging it up with all his strength he
found it wrenched from his hand and placed ringingly upon
his head.

" He's contumelious," said Hank. " He's onobedient to
my signs/' and became earnest. Taking the man by the
throat he started to choke him.

" Tell him I'm hungry, Bo," he said to Boldini. " Tell him
he can eat outer my hand when I ain't riz by hunger. ... I
gotta eat outer his pots first though."

Boldini assured the cook that Hank would tear him limb
from limb, and the angry crowd of recruits would see that
nobody rescued him either.

The fellow ceased to struggle, and Hank hurled him into
the galley.

A sort of ship's quartermaster, followed by a sailor, came up,
and 1 feared trouble. Visions of us all in irons, awaiting a
court-martial at Oran* floated before my eyes.

" Assaulting the cook ? " quoth the man in uniform.
" Good ! Kill the thrice-accursed thieving food-spoiler, and
may le bon Dieu assist you."

I gathered that he was not very fond of Slushy.

" His assistance will not be required, Monsieur le Contre-
mattre," said the smiling Boldini, and with horrible oaths and
grimaces and the worst possible grace, the cook produced a
number of loaves of bread, a pail of cold stew, and some
macaroni.

" We'll have that hot," announced Boldini, pointing to the
tew.

With very violent curses the cook said we would not and
the crowd snarled.

On understanding this reply, Hank instructed Boldini to
inform the cook that unless he did precisely as he was told,

THE GAY ROMANTICS 201

there, would be great sorrow for him when we had fed. If he
were obedient he would be forgiven.

The stew was put over the galley-fire in a great pan.

" Can't he rustle a few onions and sech ? " enquired Buddy,
pushing into the galley.

Seeing that he was a very small man, the cook gave him
a violent shove in the chest, and sent him staggering.

" I'll talk to you posthumorously, Cookie," said Buddy,
with ominous calm. " We wants you whole and hearty like,
for the present."

" Out, little dog ! Out, you indescribable pollution "
snarled the cook in French.

Under Boldini's instruction and Hank's compulsion, the
cook produced a string of onions and added them to the soupe.

" Watch him well, or he'll poison us," advised Glock, the
German, who, but yesterday, had called Hank a " dirdy tief "
and now appeared to love him as a brother.

He watched, very well, and gave every encouragement we
could think of.

Before long, we were squatting on the deck, each man with
a well-filled gamellc of excellent stew and a loaf of bread,
feeding b^artily and calling blessings on Hank, the hero of
the hour. Vogue tried to kiss him.

Again the fat cook emerged from the galley in search of
relaxation and repose, and with a curse turned to go.

" He ought by rights to give us each a litre of wine," said
Boldini. " He's got it and means to sell it."

" Say, Bo," shouted Hank thereupon. " Don' desert us !
Did you say it was wine or cawfee you was keeping fer us ? "

Boldini translated.

" y Gr& bon sang ! " roared the cook, raising his hands
above his head, and then shaking his big dirty fist at Boldini.
" To hell with you starving gutter-scrapings ! You foul swine
of the slums of Europe ! You ..."

" Sounds good ! " remarked Buddy.

"I guess he's saying ' No,' " opined Hank. " I'll make
signs to him agin," and he rose and strode towards the
gesticulating ruffian.

The cook retreated into the galley, one hand to his throat.
7*

202 BEAU GESTB

" Look out for a knife," called Boldini.

But the cook was cowed, and reappeared with a wooden
bucket containing three or four quarts of wine. This he
handed to Hank with a wish that it might choke him first
and corrode his interior after.

He then requested Boldini to inform us that we were a
cowardly gang of apaches and wolves, who were brave enough
in a band, and slinking curs individually. He would fight and
destroy every one of us except the big one -and glad of the
chance.

Boldini did so.

"I'm the smallest," remarked Buddy, and left it at that,
while he finished his broad and wine.

I am a law-abiding person by nature and by training (or
I was at that time), and regretted all this unseemliness. But
what a loathsome blackguard a man must be to swindle
hungry bewildered men (whose pay was a halfpenny a day
and who had joined the army to get it !), to rob them of their
meagre allowance of food in order that he might sell it to
them for their last coppers, when they could hold out no
longer.

According to Boldini it was this scoundrel's regular custom
to pretend to each draft of ignorant browbeaten foreigners
that the Government made no provision for them, and that
what they wanted they must buy from him. If they were
absolutely penniless they got precisely nothing at all for forty-
eight hours, and the cook sold their wine and rations to other
steerage passengers or to the sailors.

When they understood this, Hank and Buddy discussed
the advisability of " sure eradicating " the man its desir-
ability being self -evident. They decided they must leave this
duty, with so many others, unperformed, as the Messageries
Maritime* Company might behave officiously and prefer
French law to lynch law.

II But I'll expostulate some with the all-fired skiink when
we finished with him as a cook," observed Buddy. . . .

We lay on the deck propped against the hatch far into the
glorious night, Hank and Buddy rolling cigarettes with my
tobacco, and leaves from my pocket-book, while I enjoyed my

THE GAY ROMANTICS 203

dear old briar, as we listened to Boldini's wonderful tales of
the Legion. . . .

The moon rose and flooded the sea with silver light. . . .

By this time to-morrow, I might be with Michael and
Digby. ... I began to nod, fell asleep, woke cold and stiff,
and retired to a very unpleasant hole in the foVsle, where
there were tiers of bunks and many sorrows.

I slept for about ten hours and woke feeling as fit as a
fiddle and ready for anythingparticularly breakfast.

6.

According to Boldini, this should be provided at eleven
o'clock, and should consist of stew and bread. At ten-thirty,
by his advice, we appointed Hank as spokesman and sergeant,
with Boldini as interpreter, " fell in " in front of the galley,
and awaited events like a squad on parade.

" Eats at eleven, hot and plentiful, Slushy/' said Hank, as
the cook came to the galley-door in obvious surprise at the
orderly disciplined assembly.

The cook snarled and swore.

" Do he want me to make signs to him ? " asked Hank of
the interpreter.

Boldini informed the cook that the draft knew precisely
what its rights were, and that it was going to have them. If
there was delay or shortage, or if anybody suffered any ill-
effects from the food, the big man was going to beat him to a
jelly.

Then, lest the cook should complain, and there be trouble
at Oran, the big man was coming with a few staunch friends
to see that the cook disappeared overboard, during the night !
Oh, yes, we were a desperate gang, old soldiers who wouldn't
be swindled, and the big man was ex-Champion Heavy
Weight of America. Also, if we were well and plentifully
fed, we might refrain from reporting the cook's robberies
and swindles in the proper quarter. . . .

The cook affected immense amusement, but I thought his
laughter a trifle forced, as Hank's grim leathern face creased
and broke into a dental smile that held no love.

204 BEAU GE8TE

" Squad'll parade right here at eleven, pronto, for the
hand-out, Slushy," said Hank. " Be on time and stay
healthy. . . . Squad dismiss."

" Rompez! " shouted Boldini, and then made all clear to
the cook.

At eleven, Hank's sergeant-like crisp bawl, "Recruits
fall in," could be heard all over the ship ; Buddy appointed
himself bugler and whistled an obvious dinner-call, and
Boldini roared, " Rangez-vovs, legionnaires !

The way in which the order was obeyed, made it clear to
me that I was about the only recruit who was not an old
soldier. There was nothing to be surprised at in this, however,
since most continental armies are conscript, and every mania
a soldier. Certainly Hank and Buddy had been in the army.
Later I learned that they had together adorned the ranks of
that fine and famous corps, the Texas Rangers.

Without a word, the cook filled the gamelles with hot stew,
and Hank passed one to each man, together with a loaf.
He then gave the order to dismiss, and we sat us down and fed
in contentment and good-humour.

At eventide the scene was repeated, and again we ate, and
then we sat and smoked and listened to the Munchausenesque
tales of Boldini, who had certainly " seen life " as he said.

He was boastful and he was proud of escapades that did
him little credit. If he spoke the truth, he was a brave man
and a very dishonest one. He plainly revealed himself aa
extremely cunning, tricky, avaricious, and grasping. And
yet, with all his cleverness and greed, here he was, glad to
accept a sou a day again, to keep himself from starving.

Buddy did not like him.

" A crook," opined he. " Crooked as a snake with the
belly-ache. . . ."

Early on the third day we sighted the African coast.

After breakfast soupe and bread again Buddy^ requested
Boldini to ask the cook to step outside.

" What for ? " asked the cook contemptuously.

Buddy requested that the man should be informed that he
was a coyote, a skunk, a low-lifer, a way down ornery bindle-
stifi, a plate-licking dime-pinching hobo, a dodgasted greaser,

THE GAY ROMANTICS 205

a gol-durned sneak-thief, and a gosh-dinged slush-slinging
poke -out-pinching piker."

Boldini merely said :

" The little man calls you a mean lying thief and a cowardly
mangy cur. . . . He spits on you and he wants to fight you.
He is a very little man, chef."

He was, and the cook rushed out to his doom. I fancy
myself as an amateur boxer. Buddy was no amateur and
the cook was no boxer. I thought of a fat sluggish snake
and an angry mongoose, of which Uncle Hector had once told
us.

It was not a fight so much as an execution. Buddy was a
dynamic ferocity, and the thieving scoundrel was very badly
damaged.

When he could, or would, rise no more, Hank dragged the
carcase into the galley, reverently bared his head, and softly
closed the door, as one leaving a death-chamber.

" He's restin'. Hush 1 " he murmured.

Hank and Buddy never held official rank in the muster-roll
of the Legion, but they held high rank in the hearts of the
legionnaires who knew them. That recruit-squad would cer-
tainly have followed them anywhere, and have obeyed them
blindly.

Sandstone cliffs appeared, opened out to a tiny harbour,
and we approached a pier.

We were at Oran, and the Corporal, who was supposed to
be in charge of us made his first appearance on our fore-deck,
formed us up, and handed the squad over to a Sergeant,
who came on board for the purpose.

The Sergeant called the roll of our names, ascertained that
we could " form fours," " form two deep," and turn left and
right correctly, and then marched us ashore.

" I am in Africa ! " said I to myself, as we tramped through
the wide clean streets of the European-looking little town.

Down <T street of flat-roofed houses we marched, and across
the broad place, stared at by half-naked negroes, burnous-
clad Arabs, French soldiers, ordinary European civilians,
and promenading ladies and officers.

On through more wide streets to narrow slums and alleys

208 BEAU GESTE

we went, till at length the town was behind us and the desert
in front.

For an hour or more we marched by a fine road across the
desert, up the sandstone hills on to the cliff-top, until we
came in sight of an old and ugly building, another obsolete
Fort St. Jean, which Boldini said was Fort St. Th6rese and
our present destination.

Into the courtyard of this barrack-hostelry we marched,
and here the roll of our names was again called, this time by
a sous-officier. All were present and correct, the goods were
delivered, and we were directed to break oil and follow our
Sergeant to a barrack-room.

As I went in behind him, with Boldini and the Gerimn,
Glock, behind me, a well-known voice remarked '

" Enter the Third Robber." It was Digby's.

Michael and Digby were sitting side by side on a bench,
their hands in their pockets, their pipes in their mouths, and
consternation upon their faces !

" Good God ! " exclaimed Michael. " You unutterable
young fool ! God help us ! . . ."

I fell upon them. While I shook Michael's hand, Digby
shook my other one, and while 1 shook Digby's hand, Michael
shook my head. They then threw me upon the common " bed "
(about twenty feet long and six broad) and shook my feet,
finally pulling me on to the ground. I arose and closed with
Digby, and Michael pushed us both over. We rose and both
closed with Michael, until all three fell in a heap.

We then felt better, and realised that we were objects of
interest and concern, alike to our acquaintances and to the
strangers within our gates.

" Gee ! " said Buddy. " Fightin' already ! Beat 'em up,
Bo."

" Dorg-fight," observed Hank. " Chew their ears, son."

" Mad English," shrugged VoguS, the French embezzler.
" They fight when civilised people embrace."

Boldini was deeply interested.

" Third robber / " he said on a note of mingled comment
and enquiry to Glock.

" Beau and Dig," said I, " let me introduce two shore-

THE GAY ROMANTICS 207

enough blowed-in-the-glass, dyed-in-the-wool, whole-piece
White Men from God's Own Country Hank and Buddy. . . .
My brothers, Michael and Digby."

They laughed and held out their hands.

" Americans possibly," said Digby.

" Shake," said Hank and Buddy as one man, and the four
shook gravely.

" Mr. Francesco Boldini," said I. " My brothers," and
neither Michael* nor Digby offered his hand to the Italian,
until that gentleman reached for it effusively.

" I think wine is indicated, gentlemen," he said, and eyeing
us in turn, added, " * when we three robbers meet again,' so to
speak." Michael invited Hank and Buddy to join us, and
Boldini led the way and did the honours of Fort St. Th6rese.

In this canteen the wine was as good as, and even cheaper
than, the wine at Fort St. Jean cheaper than ordinary
draught-beer in England.

We three sat, drinking little, and watching the others drink
a good deal, for which Michael insisted on paying.

We were soon joined by some old legionnaires, who appeared
to be stationed permanently at the place, and, from them
and Boldini, heard innumerable lurid stories of the Legion,
for the truth of all of which they vouched, with earnest pro-
testations and strange oaths. I noticed that the earnestness
and strangeness of the latter were in inverse proportion to
the probability of the former.

" I perceive we are not about to enter ' an academy for the
sons of gentlemen where religious and moral training, character-
forming and development of the intelligence, are placed before
examination-cramming,' my son," observed Digby to me,
quoting from the syllabus of our preparatory school, as we
left the canteen.

" No," said I, " but it sounds an uncommonly good school for
mercenary soldiers " (and we found that it was certainly that).

" One hopes that this is not a fair sample of our future
home-life and domestic surroundings," remarked Michael as
we entered the barrack-room.

It was an utterly beastly place, dark, dirty, and depressing,
its sole furniture being the great wooden guard-bed before

208 BEAU GESTB

mentioned (which was simply a huge shelf, innocent of mat-
tress or covering, on which a score or so of men could lie side
by side), a heap of evil-looking brown blankets in a corner,
and a couple of benches. The place would have disgraced a
prison if used as a common cell.

However, Boldini assured us that things would be quite
different at the depot at Saida or Sidi-bel-Abbes and 1
assumed that to be different they must be better, for they
couldn't be worse.

Our evening meal was the now familiar soupe and bread,
and Boldini told us that the unvarying African daily ration
was half a pound of meat and three sous worth of vegetables
served as stew, a pound and a half of bread, half an ounce of
coffee, and half an ounce of sugar. He said it was nourishing
and sufficient but deadly monotonous, and, as to the latter,
I was prepared to believe him. The prospect of two meals
a day, and those eternally and undeviatingly similar, seemed
unexhilarating and I said so.

" One gets used to it," said Boldini, " just as one gets used
to ' eternally * washing with soap and water. If you are
content to wash daily with soap and water you can be content
to feed daily on soupe and bread. . . . Or do you occasionally
wash with champagne and a slice of cake or hot tea and
a lump of coal as a change from the ' eternal ' water and
soap ? . . ."

" Of course," he added impudently, " if you are going to
come the fine gentleman and swell mobsman . . ."

" Don't be an ass, Boldini," said I, with a cold stare. " Or
at any rate, try not to be an ass."

He eyed me speculatively and complied. Master Boldini
struck me as a gentleman who would need keeping in his
place. Whatever that might be, it was not going to be one
of the offensive familiarity that breeds contempt. I was not
quite certain, but I was under the impression that " swell
mobsman " was a thieves'-kitchen term for a well-dressed and
" gentlemanly " swindler, burglar, and general criminal, in
a superior way of business.

After soupe, there was nothing to do but to return to the
canteen, as we were not allowed to leave the Fort. We spent

THE GAT ROMANTICS 209

the evening there, and I was glad to see that Beau and Digby
seemed to like HanJs and Buddy as much as 1 dad, and that
the two Americans, so far as one could judge of the feelings
of such taciturn people, reciprocated.

Digby constituted himself host, and everybody was quite
happy and well-behaved.

With one or two exceptions, none of the recruits, whether
of my own draft, or of that with which my brothers had come,
struck me as interesting.

They were just a fairly representative collection of very
poor men from Prance, Belgium, Germany (chiefly Alsace
and Lorraine), Spam, Austria, and Switzerland.

They looked like labourers, artisans, soldiers in mufti,
newspaper-sellers, shop- boys, clerks, and the usual sort of
men of all ages whom one would see in the poorer streets of
any town, or in a Rowton House.

They certainly did not look like rogues and criminals.

Two or three, out of the couple of dozen or so, were well-
dressed and well-spoken, and one of them, I felt sure, was an
ex-officer of the French or Belgian army.

At any rate, he had " soldier " stamped all over him, was
well-dressed, smart, dapper, and soigne ; was well-educated and
bad charming manners. He called himself Jean St. Andre",
but I suspected a third name, with a de in front of it. He
had rather attached himself to us three, and we all liked him.

It struck me that community of habits, tastes, customs,
and outlook form a stronger bond of sympathy than com-
munity of race ; and that men of the same social caste and
different nationality were much more attracted to each other
than men of the same nationality and different caste. . . .

When the canteen closed, Beau proposed that we should
shorteD the night as much as possible, and spend the minimum
of time in that loathsome cell, lying packed like sardines on
the bare boards of the guard-bed shelf, with a score of men
and a million insects.

Digby observed that the sandy ground of the courtyard
would be no harder and much cleaner ; and the air, if colder,
infinitely preferable to the fug of the Black Hole of St. Th6r&e.

We selected an eligible corner, seated ourselves in a row

210 BEAU GESTE

propped against the wall, still warm from the day's sunshine,
and prepared for a night under the wonderful African stars.

" Well, my poor, dear, idiotic, mad pup and what the
devil do you think you're doing here ? " began Michael, as
soon as we were settled and our pipes alight.

" Fleeing from justice, Beau," said I. " What are you ? "

" Same thing," replied Michael.

" And you, Dig ? " I asked.

" Who, me ? " answered Digby. " Well, to tell you the
truth, I, personally, am, as it were, what you might call er
fleeing from justice. . . .

" Three fleas," he observed, breaking a long silence.

" Did you bring the * Blue Water ' with you, John ? "
asked Digby.

" No," 1 said. " No, I didn't bring it with me/*

" Careless," remarked Digby.

" Did you bring it, Beau ? " I asked.

" Yes," answered Michael.

" Careful," commented Digby.

" Did you bring it with you too, Dig ? " I enquired.

" Never travel without it," was the reply.

" I suppose one of us three has got it," I said wearily.

" Two of us," corrected Digby.

" Oh, yes, it's here all right," said Michael. " What would
be the good of our being here if it were not ?

" Bring us up to date about things," he added. " How's
everybody bearing up ? "

I told them the details of my evasion ; of how I had declined
an interview with Aunt Patricia ; of how the shock of some-
body's disgraceful behaviour had been too much for the
Chaplain's health ; of the respective attitudes of Augustus,
Claudia, and Isobel.

" It is rough on Claudia," said Michael, " and, in a different
way, on the poor old Chaplain."

" And in a different way, again, on Aunt Patricia," I observed.

" Thirty thousand pounds," mused Digby. " What price
dear Uncle Hector, when she breaks it to him ? He'll go mad
and bite her."

" Doesn't bear thinking of," said I.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 211

" Deuced lucky for young Gussie that Isobel was able to
clear him," mused Digby,

" That's what makes it so hard on Claudia or would have
done, if we hadn't bolted," said Michael. " Gussie and Isobel
being out of it it was she or one of us. . . ."

In the silence that followed, I was aware of a sound, close
beside us, where a buttress of the wall projected. Probably
a rat or some nocturnal bird ; possibly a dog.

*' Well it was one of us," said Michael, " and we have
demonstrated the fact. We've overdone it a bit, though.

" Why couldn't you have enjoyed your ill-gotten gains in
peace, at home, John ? " he went on. " Or left me to enjoy
mine abroad t Why this wholesale emigration ? "

" Yes," agreed Digby, " absolute mob. They won't be
able to decide whether we were all in the job together, or
whether we're chasing each other to get a share of the loot."

" No," said Michael. " Problom'll worry them like any-
thing."

" When are we to let them know we're in the Legion,
Beau ! " I asked.

" We're not there yet," was the reply.

" When we are," I pursued.

" Dunno. . . . Think about it," said Michael.

" Don't see why we should let 'em know we're all there
together," said Digby. " Better if one was at, or up, the
North Pole, the other up the South Pole, and the third sitting
on the Equator. More mystery about it and they wouldn't
know which to chase first."

" Something in that," agreed Michael. " If we are all
together (since you two have come), we are obviously all
implicated all three thieves. If we are scattered, two of
na must be innocent. There is a doubt on each of us, but not
a stain on any particular one of us. ... Why write at all,
in fact ? We are just runaway criminals. They don't write
home. . : ."

" My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart
i* puah," bleated Digby.

" My strength will be as the strength of eleven if you don't
shut up," warned Michael.

212 BEAU GESTE

" I don't see the point really, Beau," I objected. " We
prove nothing at all by being scattered. We might still all
be criminals. We could easily have planned to pinch the
sapphire, to bolt in different directions, and to share the
loot by meeting later on. ... Or we could share without
meeting. One of us could dispose of it in Amsterdam or some-
where, bank the money, and send a third of it to each of the
others by draft or cheque, or something. . . ."

" Hark at the young criminal 1 " said. Digby. . . ,
" Hasn't he got a mind ? " . . .

" What I mean is," I explained, " it's a bit rough on er
those that are left at home, not to let them know where we are
alive or dead and all that. . . ."

" Thinking of Gussie ? " asked Digby.

" Besides," I went on, " how are they to let us know if
the damned thing turns up ? ... And how are we to know
how they are getting on ? . . ."

"True," agreed Michael. "We ought to let Aunt
Patricia know that we are halo and hearty, and she ought to
be in a position to let us know if anything happens or turns
up. What we don't want to do meanwhile, is to spoil the
impression that one of us is the thief. ... I rftill think it
would help to keep suspicion on us, and to deepen the mystery,
if we don't let it be known that we are all together. . . . We
don't want some fool saying that we three agreed to take the
blame and share it, and so cleared out together to the same
place . . . while the thief is still at Brandon Abbas. . . ."

" Who did pinch the filthy thing ? " said Digby, voicing once
more the question that I had asked myself a thousand times.

" I did," said Michael.

" Then why the devil don't you put it back ? " asked Digby.

" Too late now," answered Michael. " Besides, I want to
lie low and then sell it for thirty thousand pounds, five years
hence ; invest the money in various sound things, and have
the income (of fifteen hundred to two thousand a year) for
life. . . . Live like Uncle Hector sport, hunting, travel,
big-game shooting, flat in town, clubs. . . ."

" On Uncle Hector's money ? " I said.

" Doubles the joy of it, what ! " replied Michael.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 213

" Funny thing that," put in Digby. " It's just what I'm
going to do except that I find one can't get more than about
twenty thousand, and I'm going to put it into a South Sea
Island plantation and an Island trading concern. . . . Have
the best schooner in the Islands, and be my own supercargo.
. . . Every third year, come home and live the gay life on
niy twenty-per-cent profits. I reckon to make about four
thousand a year. Yes. . . . Marquesas, Apia, Honolulu,
Tahiti, Papeete, Kanakas, copra, ukaleles, lava-lavas, surf-
riding, Robert Louis Stevenson. . . ."

" What are you going to do with the ' Blue Water ' mean-
while ? " I asked, humouring the humorists.

" Always carry it about with me," said Digby. " If I get
an eye knocked out I shall wear it in the empty socket. . . .
Blue-eyed boy. . . . Good idea, that. . . ."

" Or you might put it where the monkey put the nuts
develop a pouch in your cheek. Very simple for you, I should
think," I suggested.

" Both rotten ideas," objected Michael. " Marsupial is
the tip. Kangaroo's custom. They carry about their young
and their money and things in a sort of bag, you know . . .
in front . . . accessible. I keep it on me, night and day
wash-leather pouch in a money-belt. I thought it all out
beforehand, and bought the thing in London. . . . Got to
kill the man before you can rob him. Hatton Garden diamond-
merchants wear them when they travel. Round their little
tummies under their little vests. ..."

" What makes them all look so paunchy," corroborated
Digby.

" You haven't told us what you are going to do, John," he
went on. " Are you going to lie low for the five years and then
sell it ? ... What are you going to do with the money ? "

" Divide it with you and Beau," I replied.

" Oh, stout fella," approved Digby. " He puts us to shame,
Beau, doesn't he ? Let's put him to death in return, and keep
his share."

" Quite," agreed Michael. " We've got to find out what
he's done with it first, though. . . ."

And so we ragged and chatted, sitting there, three of the

214 BEAU GESTE

most incredibly foolish young fools in their folly, but perfectly
care-free and leaving to the morrow what the morrow might
bring forth. . . .

Towards morning we dozed, and the dawn found us cold,
stiff, and aching, but quite happy. We were together ; life,
the world, and adventure were before us.

7.

A third draft of recruits arrived after morning soupe, and
we learnt that all wore to be evacuated that day, one half
going to Saida, the depot of the Second Regiment of the
Foreign Legion, and the remainder to Sidi-bel- Abbes, the
depot of the First Regiment.

The question that at once agitated our breasts was as to
whether we could keep together.

We rather preferred the idea of the First Regiment to that
of the Second, simply because it was the First ; but we did
not much care either way, provided we were not separated.
To that we simply would not agree.

I was distinctly pleased to find that the two Americans
wished to come with us.

They had no more intention of parting from each other than
we three had, but provided that they could keep together
they wanted to go where we went.

To us came Boldiui as wo strolled round the courtyard.

" Let's stick together, we four," quoth he. " Fm going
to the First, and you'd better come too. I know all the ropes
there, and can put you up to everything. Get you in right
with the corporals. . . . Sergeant Lejaune's a friend of
mine. . . ."

"We three are certainly going together," said Michael,
11 and we want the two Americans to come with us, and we
prefer the First, on the whole. Have we any say in the
matter ! "

" Ten francs would have a ay," replied Boldini. " They'd
talk louder than six men. Put up the ten francs, and I can
work it that we six go to the First. . . . But why bother
about the Americana t They are uncultivated people. 91

THE GAY ROMANTICS 215

" We're going to cultivate them," punned Michael.

We produced the ten francs and Boldini departed to
M arrange " the matter, as he said.

Whether we owed anything to his efforts or not, I never
knew. He may have " squared " a corporal, or he may
merely have notified our wish to go together to the Premier
fitranger. Or, again, it may merely have been by chance
that we found ourselves in the half detailed for Sidi-bel-
Abbes.

As we " fell in " to march to the station, I and St. Andre
stood behind Michael and Digby, while Boldini and an English-
speaking Swiss, named Maris, stood behind Hank and Buddy,
who were next to Michael and Digby. Thus, when we " formed
fours," my brothers and I and St. Andr6 made one " four,"
and Hank, Buddy, Boldini, and Maris the " four " behind us.

This Maris seemed an excellent person. He had been a
travelling valet and courier, and had all the experience,
address, linguistic knowledge, and general ability to be ex-
pected of a person who could earn his living in that capacity.
He attached himself to us because he liked the English, and
was, as he naively observed, " fond of gentlemen." He was
a smiling, pleasant fellow of agreeable manners and attractive
appearance.

At Oran station we entrained in about the poorest and
slowest conveyance ever drawn by steam. This specimen
of the West Algerian Railway Company's rolling-stock made
its way from Oran to Sicli-bel- Abbes at an average rate of
ten miles an hour, and in spite of the novelty of the scenery
and of the population of the wayside stations, we grew very
weary of it.

Our two "fours " and a couple of Germans filled one com-
partment, and we whiled away the time by questioning Boldini
concerning life in the Legion, and by listening to his innumer-
able stories.

It seemed somewhat dream-like to me, to be sitting in a
tiny bare third-class railway-carriage, somnolently rolling
across Africa in company with my brothers, two Americans,
an ex-officer of a continental army, an Anglo-Indian Italian,
a Swiss courier, and a pair of German workmen, listening to

216 BEAU GESTB

tales of a life as far removed from that of Europe as are the
Arabian Nights.

Watching the slowly-passing scenery of the country-side, I
was surprised at its difference from what one might have
expected in Africa, it being neither of desert nor jungle, but
a cultivated country of fields, farms, orchards, and gardens.
It was not until we were approaching our destination that
sand-hills and desert encroached and a note of wildness and
savagery prevailed.

Negro and Arab boys and men brought fruit to our window
at every station, and very fine grapes, oranges, melons, and
figs could be bought extremely cheaply.

" This is all right," remarked Digby, who was always very
fond of fruit, " if one can get fruit at this price in Sidi-bel-

" Yes," said Boldini drily, " if you devote your entire
income entirely to fruit, you'll be able to get a little every
day of your life."

A halfpenny a day for fruit does not sound much, but the
devotion of one's total income to it seems excessive.

" No income tax ? " asked Digby, and we were relieved, if
surprised, to hear that there was none.

We reached Sidi-bel- Abbes Station in the evening, and were
received by a sergeant and corporals, were lined up and
marched off, in fours, along a broad road. At the station gate
I noticed a picket of non-commissioned officers, who sharply
scrutinised all who passed it.

As we marched along, I got a somewhat Spanish impression
of the town, probably because I heard the tinkling of a guitar
and saw some women with high combs and mantillas, among
the nondescript Europeans who were strolling between the
yellow houses. Entering the town itself, through a great
gate in the huge ramparts, we were in a curiously hybrid
Oriental-European atmosphere in which moved stately Arabs,
smart French ladies, omnibuses, camels, half-naked, negroes,
dapper officers, crowds of poor Jewish -looking working-folk,
soldiers by the hundred, negroes, grisettes, black newspaper
boys selling the Echo d'Oran, pig-tailed European girls,
Spaniards, Frenchmen, Algerian Jews, Levantines, men and

THE GAY ROMANTICS 217

women straight from the Bible, and others straight from the
Boulevards, Arab policemen, Spahis, Turcos, Zouaves, and
Chasseurs d'Afrique.

No less hybrid was the architecture, and the eye passed from
white gleaming mosque with glorious minaret to gaudy caf6
with garish lights ; from showy shops to shuttered Oriental
houses ; from carved balconies and coloured tiles to municipal
clock-towers and enamel advertisements ; from Moorish
domes and arches to French newspaper kiosks and lamp-
posts ; from Eastern bazaars to Western hotels and clubs
and Government offices and secretariats.

And almost everywhere were beautiful avenues of palms
and groves of olives, ably seconding the efforts of Moorish
mosque and Arab architecture in the unequal struggle between
artistic Oriental romance and vulgar Occidental utilitarianism.
Hybridism insisted through other senses too, for the ear
caught now the " Allah Akbar ! Lah illah il Allah ! Ya
Saidna Mohammed rais ul Allah ! " of the muezzin on the
minaret ; the shouting of an angry Spanish woman ; the
warning cries in sabir of a negro driver ; snatches of French
conversation from passing soldiers ; the loud wrangling in
Arabic of a police goumicr and some camclmen ; and a strange
haunting chorus from behind a wall, of :

" Travaja la miiqucir
Travaja bono
Bono brzef la muqueir
Travaja bono."

And to the nostrils were wafted scents of Eastern food and
Western drink, camel-dung fires and Parisian patchouli ;
Eastern spices and Western cooking ; now the odour
of unwashen Eastern men, now of perfumed Western
women.

" Kind of ' Algeria at Olympia/ this/' observed Digby.
" Good spot. Reminds one of Widdicombe."

Turning from a main thoroughfare we entered a lane that
ran between the barracks of the Spahi cavalry and those of
the Foreign Legion.

Through the railings of great iron gates we could eee a

218 BEAU OESTE

colossal three-story yellow building, at the far side of a vast
expanse of parade ground.

" Our College," remarked Digby.

On either side of the gates were guard-house and prison.

A small door was opened beside the gates, and we filed
through.

The guard, seated on a long bench outside the guard-house,
observed us without enthusiasm. The Sergeant of the Guard
emerged and looked us over, and then closed his eyes, while
he slowly shook his head.

A knot of men, clad in white uniform with wide blue sashes
round their waists, gathered and regarded us.

" Mon Dieu I " said one, " there's that blackguard Boldini
back again. As big a fool as he is a knave, evidently ! "

Boldini affected deafness.

And then apj>eared upon the scone the only man I have
ever met who seemed to me to be bad, wholly bad, evil all
through, without a single redeeming virtue save courage.

He came from the regimental offices, a fierce- loo king,
thick-set, dark man, with the face and figure of a prize-fighter ;
glaring and staring of eye, swarthily handsome, with the neck
and jowl of a bull-dog. He also had the curious teeth- baring,
chin-protruding jaw-thrust of a bull-dog, and thero were
two deep lines between the heavy beetling brows.

A digression : This was Colour-Sergeant Lejaune, a terrible
and terrifying man, who had made his way in the Legion (and
who made it further still) by distinguishing himself among
distinguished martinets as a relentlessly harsh and meticulous
disciplinarian, a savagely violent taskmaster, and a punishing
non-com, of tremendous energy, ability, and courage.

To his admiring superiors he was invaluable ; to his despair-
ing subordinates he was unspeakable. He was a reincarnation
and lineal descendant of the overseers who lashed the dying
galley -slaves of the Roman triremes, and as different from
the officers as were the overseers from the Roman centurions.

He would have made a splendid wild -beast tamer, for he
had all the courage, strength, forceful personality, hardy over-
bearing consciousness of superiority, and contemptuous,
callous brutality required in that bold, ignoble profession.

THE QAY ROMANTICS 219

And it pleased him to regard himself as one, and to treat his
legionaries as wild beasts ; as dangerous, evil, savage, criminal
brutes, instead of as what they were fairly representative
specimens of the average population of the countries from
which they caine.

Nor should it be supposed that Colour-Sergeant Lojaune
was himself a typical representative specimen of his class,
the Legion non-com. Though these men are usually harsh
and somewhat tyrannical martinets, they are not villainous
brutes.

Lejaune was. He took an actual delight in punishing, and
nothing angered him more than to be unable to find a reason
for doing it.

Probably he began by punishing (to the fullest extent of
his powers and opportunity), in order to secure the most
perfect discipline and to display his zeal, efficiency, and worth
as a strong non-com. ; and, from that, cai; 1 to punish as a
habit, until the habit became a taste, and then a lust and an
obsession.

And later, through the coining to the Legion of a deserter
from the Belgian army, we learnt a sinister, significant, and
explanatory fact.

Lejaune had been dismissed from the Belgian Congo
service for brutalities and atrocities exceeding even the limit
fixed by good King Leopold's merry men.

There had been an exposure engineered by foreign mis-
sionaries, a world-wide scandal, and some white-washing
in the course of which Lejaune had been washed out.

From being a sergeant of the Belgian army, and a Congo
rubber-station factor, autocratic, well-paid, and with absolute
power, he had become a legionary, and by forcefulness,
energy, and courage had made good.

Once more he had scope for the brutality, violence, and
ferocious arrogance that had been his assets in the Belgian
Congo, of terrible memory.

At times he was undoubtedly mad, and his madness took
the form of sadistic savagery.

Upon this man, Boldini certainly had some claim, or
between them there was some bond, for Lejaune never

220 BEAU GESTE

punished Boldini, and they were at times seen in private
confabulation, though, of course, no non-commissioned
officer ever walked out, nor drank, with a private soldier.

The Belgian deserter, one Vaerren, declared that Boldini
had been a civilian subordinate in the Congo, and in Lejaune's
district, and had been imprisoned for peculation and falsifying
his trade returns. Of the truth of thin I know nothing, but I
do know that Lejaune favoured the man and procured his pro-
motion to Corporal, when he himself became Sergeant-Major.

And it was into the hands of this Lejaune that we were now
delivered.

To resume : Colour -Sergeant Lejaune called the roll of oui
names and looked us over.

Noting the insignificant stature of Buddy, a pocket Her-
cules, his face set in a contemptuous sneer.

" An undersized cur," he remarked to the Sergeant of the
Guard.

" Guess I've seen better things than you dead on a sticky
fly-paper, anyhow/' replied Buddy promptly.

Mercifully Lejaune knew no English but he knew that a
wretched recruit had dared to open his miserable mouth.

" Silence, dog ! " he roared. " Open your foul lips again,
and I'll close them for a month with my boot. . . . Speak
again, you hoimd, and I'll kick your teeth down your throat."

Buddy had not understood a word. He had seen a sneer,
and heard contemptuous words ; and he had dared to presume
upon being an ignorant recruit, not even in uniform. Now he
heard an angry roar, and was too old a soldier to do anything
but stiilen to attention.

It was borne in upon him that there was some pep to
Legion sergeants, and they were some roosters, on their own
dung-hill. Better argue with a New York cop on Broadway
at midnight, than to donate back-chat to the rough-neck.

But the mischief was done, and Buddy was a marked man.
More, any friend of Buddy was a marked man, and any friend
of his friend's, unto the third and fourth generation.

When the bloodshot eye of Colour-Sergeant Lejaune fell
upon Boldini, it halted, and a long look passed between the
two men. Neither spoke.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 221

Upon ns three Gestes he looked with disfavour.

" Runaway pimps," he said. " Show me your hands."

We held them out.

" Going to tell our fortunes. * . . Beware of a dark ugly
man," whispered Djgby to me.

The Colour-Sergeant regarded our decently kept hands and
snorted :

" I'll harden those for you, by God. . . . Never done a
stroke of work ill your lives. . . . I'll manicure you before you
die. . . . I'll make you wish you had gone to gaol instead."

He looked Hank over.

" A lazy hulk. I'll take my oath," he observed. " I'll teach
you to move quickly, in a way that'll surprise you," he promised.

" Shore, Bo." replied Hank mildly, wishing to be polite,
though ignorant, of what had been said to him. 4 * Spill
another mouthful,'" he added encouragingly.

" Silence, you chattering ape from the trees I " roared
Lejaune. " Speak again and I'll tic your wrists to your
ankles in the small of your back for a week. By God, I'll
cripple you for life, you two-legged talking camel."

And Hank also grasped that silence is frequently more than
gold and speech much less than silver.

Having duly impressed the draft, Colour-Sergeant Lejaune
announced that the Seventh Company would be afflicted with
the lot of us, and serve it right. He then suddenly roared :

" Garde d vous ! Pour dc filer I Par files de quatre, d droit"
and looked eagerly and anxiously for a victim. His face
clouded with chagrin and disappointment. The draft had
moved like guardsmen. Those who understood French had
sprung to attention and turned like machines, and those who
did not understand the actual words had moved with them.

" En avant. . . . Marche ! " he concluded, and we stepped
ofl like the old soldiers most of us were.

Across the drill -ground we marched to the storeroom of
the fourrier-sergent of the Seventh Company, and received
our kit which, in addition to two cloth uniforms, included
white fatigue uniforms, linen spats, underclothing, the blue
woollen sash or cummerbund, cleaning materials, soap and
towels, but no socks, for the Legion does not wear them.

222 BEAU GESTE

We were then inspected by the adjudant-major, who
corresponds to the English adjutant (whereas the adjudant is
a non-cominissioned officer), and marched by a corporal to
our casernes, or barrack-rooms.

Going up staircases and along corridors, a squad of ten of
us, including Boldini, St. Andre", Vogu6, Maris, Glock, Buddy,
Hank, my brothers, and myself, were directed to our room
a huge, clean, well- ventilated bare chamber, in which were
thirty beds. Here we were handed over to stfme legionnaires,
who were polishing their belts, cartridge-pouches, and
accoutrements .

" Blew" said Corporal Dupr6 to these men. " Show them
what to do, Schwartz, Colonna, Brandt, Haff, and Deiarey. . . .
Kit, bedding, paquctage, astiquage, everything. Don't go en
promenade before they know their boots from their kepis."

" All right, Corporal/' said one of the men, and when the
Corporal had gone out, changed his tone as he went on :

" The devil damn ail blcus. Why couldn't you go to hell,
instead of coming here to waste our time ? . . . However, you
shall repay us in the canteen. Come on, get to work now,
and the sooner we can get to the bottles ..."

But Boldini had a word to say.

" Wriggle back into the cheese you crawled out of, you
one-year, half-baked imitation of a soldier," he snapped.
" I was a legionary and fought in Madagascar, Morocco, and
the Soudan when you were in the foundling orphanage."

" Name of a name of a name of a name ! " gabbled one of
the men, " if it isn't old Boldini come back ! " and he roared
with laughter and threw himself on a bed.

" Wait till I'm a corporal, friend Brandt," said Boldini.
"I'll make you laugh louder than that."

He did not have to wait, however, as the man redoubled his
yells of laughter.

The return of Boldini, for some reason, struck him as a most
priceless joke.

" Here, you Colonna, Schwartz, and HaS, take those five
and I'll attend to these," said Boldini ; and proceeded to
direct us to appropriate beds and put our kit on them.

He then gave us a clever exhibition of clothes-folding, and

THE GAY ROMANTICS 223

built up a secure and neat little paquetage of uniform and kit
on the shelf above his bed.

"There you are- do that first," said he. "Everything
in elbow-to-finger-tip lengths, piled so," and we set about
folding coats, trousers, overcoats, and kit, as he had done,
and putting the pile on the shelf at the head of the bed as
there was no kit-bag or box of any sort.

Having done this, we had our first lesson in astiquage, the
polishing of belt^, and cartridge-pouches, with wax and rags ;
and then in rifle-cleaning.

We were next conducted downstairs and out to the concrete
open-air lavabo, and shown where to wash our white canvas
fatigue-uniforms. We were then hurried to the canteen, that
we might do our duty to our comrades of the cscouade and pay
our footing.

The scene here resembled that in the canteens of Forts
St. Jean and St. Therese, save that the men were all legion-
naires, of course, and the person behind the bar was a
woman a veritable French vivandiere andfille du regiment.

Here again, a few francs procured an incredible quantity of
wine and all was harmony, noise, and hectic gaiety of the
kind induced by alcohol. Returning to our barrack-room at
the call of the " Lights out " bugle, we completed our pre-
parations for the morrow by the meagre light of the caserne
night-lamp.

We gathered that we should be aroused by the garde-
chambre at five-fifteen in the morning, and should have to be
on recruit-parade at five-thirty in white uniform and sash,
with knapsack, rifle, belts, and bayonet, and that everything
must be immaculate and shining. Also that, before quitting
the room, the blankets and mattresses of the bed must be
folded and piled, and arranged to a hairbreadth accuracy,
and the floor beneath the bed swept clean.

Apparently this cleanliness need not extend to the person,
for there w.ere no washing facilities of any sort in the room,
nor on the whole of that floor of the barracks, nor on the one
below. An eccentric, in search of a morning wash, had to
make his way down four flights of stairs to a rude and crude
kind of lavatory on the ground-floor.

224 BEAU GESTB

As the garde-chance saw no reason to arouse himself more
than a quarter of an hour before he was himself due for parade,
and then had to fetch the coffee-pail before arousing the others,
this was apt to be a crowded quarter of an hour of inglorious life.

So, with the conscientious fears of the ignorant novice, at
least one recruit endeavoured to have everything right and
ready before he went to bed, and secretly determined to wake
himself at half-past four next morning, to make a good
beginning.

Michael's bed was in the corner by the huge window,
Boldini's was next, Digby's next, and then that of an Italian
calling himself Colonna. Mine came next, then Brandt's, then
Buddy's, then Half's, and then Hank's always an old
legionnaire next to a recruit, and so on throughout the room.

In the corner by the door, was the bed of Corporal Dupre, who
was in command of the escouade and in charge of the room.

He was an active, noisy, bustling person, humorous and not
unkindly when sober ; when overfull of canteen wine he was
sullen, suspicious, and dangerous. Being very fond of wine
he was easily approachable by anyone who chose to provide
it or rather the means of purchasing it.

While we three and the Americans were gathered in a group,
putting the last touches to our kit and extracting information
and advice from Boldini, he came into the room, undressed
and went to bed.

As ho lay down he bawled :

" Silence ! If any man makes a sound, between now and
sunrise, he'll make the next sound in hospital," and fell asleep.

We got into our beds in a silence that could be felt.

I remained awake, because I was anxious to go to sleep ;
and lay thinking of Isobel, of what was happening at Brandon
Abbas, of our strange position, and of the " Blue Water."

When I thought of what now lay before me, I was unutter-
ably thankful that my guess, or instinct, had been right, and
that I was with Michael and Digby.

It would have been rather terrible to find myself in this
galley alone. With Beau and Digby here, it would be just
adventure hard, rough, and dangerous, no doubt but no
easy flowery path leads to any place worth arriving at.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 225

And what of Michael and Digby ? They each still pretended
to be the culprit, which was doubly as absurd an idea as that
either one of them should be.

Michael's look had been one of sheer horror and consterna-
tion when he had caught sight of me at Fort St. The'rese, and
he had seemed to feel that my flight \vas a complication and a
catastrophe on which he had never reckoned.

Had he felt the same about Digby, or had Digby known
more than he toM me ? I must try to find out. . . .

I fell asleep and was awakened, apparently a minute later,
by the garde-chambre shouting something as he lit a big
central lamp that hung from the ceiling.

Men sat up in bed ; eacli took a tin mug from a hook below
the shelf above his head, and held it out to the garde-chambre,
who went round with a great jug, giving everybody about
half a pint of coffee. It was hot, strong, and good.

The Corporal shouted :

" Levez-vous ! Levez-vous I " and then, as on the Eve of
Waterloo, " there was hurrying to and fro and sudden
partings," if not " tremblings of distress and cheeks all
pale. . . ."

Michael, Digby, and I rushed to the far-off lavatory, dashed
our heads into water and fled back towelling.

I found my bed " made," my kit laid out neatly, my boots
brushed, everything put ready as by a valet, and Brandt
sweeping under my bed.

I stared in astonishment.

" A couple of sous, comrade ! " said Brandt, and I under-
stood. An income of a halfpenny a day is one that will stand
a good deal of augmenting.

Turning to see if I could do anything for Michael or Digby,
I found that Boldini and Colonna were before me, each earning
in a few minutes, as a valet, what it took them two days to
earn as a soldier.

In a surprisingly short time, all were dressed and ready,
the garde-chambre had swept up the dust and dirt that the
men had brushed out from under the beds, and Corporal
Dupre* had been round to see that the beds were properly
made and everything tidy. Then, following upon a shout of
8

226 BEAU GESTB

" Garde d IKMM," the Colour-Sergeant of the Company entered
and inspected the room and the men.

All prayed that he might find no fault, for if he did, he would
punish the Corporal, and the Corporal would punish the
offenders tenfold.

In the French army, non-commissioned officers can, like
prefects in our public schools, award punishments without
reference to officers. They give the punishment, enter it in
the livre de punitions, and there is an end, of the matter
unless the officer, inspecting the book, increases the punish-
ment by way of punishing the offender for getting punished.

The system enhances the power and position of the non-
com, enormously, and undoubtedly makes for tremendous
discipline and some injustice anil tyranny.

All was well this morning, however, and the great man's
Iron face remained impassive, and his hard mouth unopened.

We took our Lebel rifles from the rack, put our bayonets
in their frogs, and clattered down to the parade-ground at
five-thirty, on that glorious cold morning.

The battalion marched away to field -exercises, and the
recruits were formed up, told off by escouades, each under a
corporal, and taken out to the " plateau," a vast drill-ground
near the village neyre, for physical training, which to-day was
simply steady running. It was nothing much for young
athletes like us three, but a little cruel for half -starved or
out-of-condition men, who had not run for some time.

On other mornings the physical culture took the form of
gymnastics, boxing, or a long route-march.

On our return to barracks, wet and warm, we had our
morning meal of soupe and bread, and a quarter- litre of good
wine. Tin plates and gamelles were rattled out of hanging-
cupboards, and we sat at the long tables that occupied the
centre of the big room. There was meat as well as vegetables
in my excellent stew, and the bread, though grey, was palat-
able, and more than sufficient in quantity.

After a rest, the recruits had a lecture, and after that,
squad and company drill, while the battalion did attack-
formation exercise on the plateau.

After this we were set to work with brooms and wheel-

THE GAY ROMANTICS 227

barrows at tidying up around the barracks, and were then
free to go to the lavabo to wash and dry our white uniforms.

At five o'clock we got our second meal, exactly like the first,
and were then finished for the day, save in so far as we had
to prepare for the next, in the way of cleaning and polishing
the leather and metal of our arms and equipment no small
task, especially with stuff fresh from store.

Here the poverty of the Legion again helped us, for no man
need do a stroke more than he wishes of this kind of work,
while he has a halfpenny to spare.

We soon found that it was a real and genuine kindness to
let a comrade have a go at our leather and brass, our rifles
and bayonets, our dirty fatigue suits and underclothing ;
for, to him, a job meant the means of getting a packet of
wporal cigarettes, a bottle of wine, a postage-stamp, a change
of diet, a piece of much-needed soap, or a chance to replenish
his cleaning materials.

We three did not shirk our work, by any means, but very
often, when weary to death, or anxious to go out of barracks,
we gave our astiquage work to one of the many who begged
to be allowed to do it.

The recruits progressed with astonishing speed, being
practically all trained soldiers before they joined, and picked
up the necessary Legion- French remarkably rapidly.

We three very soon became good soldiers, aided by our
intelligence, strength, sobriety, athletic training, sense of
discipline, knowledge of French, and a genuine desire to make
good.

More fortunate than most, wo were well-educated and had
" background " ; a little money (thanks to Michael's fore-
thought), which was wealth in the Legion ; good habits,
self-control, and a public-school training ; and wo were
inoffensive by reason of possessing the consideration, courtesy,
and self-respecting respect for others proper to gentlemen.

Less fortunate than most, we were accustomed to varied
food, comfortable surroundings, leisure, a great deal of
mental and physical recreation, spaciousness of life, and
above all, privacy.

But at first, everything was new and strange, remarkable

228 BEAU GESTE

and romantic ; we were Soldiers of Fortune, we were together,
and we were by no means unhappy.

But oh, how I longed to see Isobel 1

And gradually, wondering thoughts as to the " Blue Water "
and its whereabouts, retired to the back of my mind, for the
world was too much with us altogether, for there to be time
available for introspection or day-dreaming. Our days were
too full and busy and our nights all too short for thought.
They were scarce long enough for the deep dreamless sleep
necessary to men who were worked as we were.

And how we blessed Sundays those glorious life-saving
days of complete rest.

On our first Sunday morning in the Legion, we three sat
on Michael's bed and held a " Council of War," as we had so
often done, in the days of the Band, at Brandon Abbas.

It was decided that I should write to Isobel, telling her
where I was, and saying that I knew where Michael and l)igby
were, and could send them any messages or news.

Isobel was to use her discretion as to admitting that she
knew where I was, but if she did admit it she was to add
the simple truth that she had not the slightest idea as to
where the others were.

This plan was Michael's, and as he seemed keen on it, and
neither Digby nor I saw anything against it, we adopted it,
and I wrote a letter which she could show to Aunt Patricia,
or not, as she liked.

I wrote as follows :

" Legionnaire John Smith, No. 18896,
1th Company ', Premier fitranger ,

Sidi-bel- Abbes, Algeria.
Dear Isobel,

A letter to the above address will find me. Michael and
Digby know it also. I can send them any messages, or news,
from Brandon Abbas. Neither of them is in England. Either
of them will let me know if he changes his present address. 1 am
in excellent health. 1 shall write again if 1 hear from you. I am
o anxious to know what is happening at home.

John."

THE GAY ROMANTICS 229

Michael and Digby approved of this, as it opened up a line
of communication with Brandon Abbas, but made no change
in the situation.

From what we had learnt, after discreet enquiries of Boldini,
we had quite come to the conclusion that the English police
would take no steps in pursuit of the legionary, John Smith,
so long as he remained in the Legion, even though there were
strong reasons for suspecting him to be John Geste who had
disappeared at *the time of the jewel-robbery.

But I privately inserted a scrap of paper on which was a
message of undying and unalterable love to my sweetheart.
This she could destroy, and the letter she could produce for
Aunt Patricia's information or not, as might seem best to her
in whatever circumstances arose. . . .

On a Saturday night, a fortnight later, I got a private and
personal love-letter that made me wildly happy and as proud
aa a peacock ; and, with it, a long letter that I could send to
Michael and Digby if I wished to do so.

This latter said that things were going on at Brandon Abbas
exactly as before.

Aunt Patricia had, so far, communicated neither with the
police nor with anybody else, and had taken no steps, what-
soever, in the matter.

Apparently she had accepted the fact that one of the three
Gestes had stolen the " Blue Water " and, extraordinarily
and incredibly, she was just doing nothing at all about it,
but simply awaiting Uncle Hector's return.

She had released Augustus, Claudia, and Isobel herself,
from the prohibition as to leaving the house, and had asked
no questions of any of them since the day that I had dis-
appeared. On that day, she had accepted the solemn assurance
of Augustus, Claudia, and Isobel, that they knew absolutely
nothing as to where the Gestes had gone, which of them was
the thief, or whether they were in league.

" I cannot understand her/' she wrote, " nor get at what
she thinks and feels. She fully accepts, apparently, my
exculpation of Gussie (and incidentally of myself at the same
time) and scorns to suspect Claudia. She has told us that
we are absolutely free from suspicion, and she wishes UB to

230 BEAU GESTE

make no further reference to the matter at all. Gussie i,
of course, unbearable. He has ' known all along that you
would come to a bad end the three of you,' but while certain
that you are all in it together, he believes that you, John,
are the actual thief. I told him that I had a belief too, and
when he asked what it was, I said, ' / believe that if you gave
your whole soul to it, Gussie, you might possibly, some day, be
fit to clean John's boots or those of any other GeMe. . . .'
I also said that if he ever uttered another worfr on the subject
I would discover, when the police came, that I had made a mis-
take in thinking that it was his arm 1 had held when the light
failed 1 ... Am I not a beast ? But ho does make me so angry
with his sneers and conscious rectitude, the mean little rascal.

However, as I have said, the police have not come yet, and
absolutely nothing is being done. The servants haven't a ghost
of an idea that anything is wrong, and life goes on just as if you
three had merely gone up to Oxford for this term. Burden
must wonder that you all went so suddenly and with so little
kit, but I don't suppose it interests him much.

I don't know what Uncle Hector will say about the delay
in going to Scotland Yard I It almost looks as though Aunt
wants the culprit to escape, or else feels that Uncle Hector
would prefer that there should be no public scandal if it could
possibly be avoided, and the sapphire recovered privately.
Somehow I can't think that Aunt would have any mercy on
the thief, though and I really don't think she'd suppose
Uncle Hector would prefer this delay to scandal. Surely he
is not the person to care twopence about scandal, and he cer-
tainly is not the person to approve a delay that may make
recovery impossible. I can't make it out at all.

Fancy Uncle Hector robbed of thirty thousand pounds 1
He'll go raving mad and kill people !

Oh, John, where is the wretched thing ? And how long
will it be before you can all come back ? I shall wire to you
at once if it turns up, and I shall certainly come and see you if
you don't oome soon for it's my private opinion that you are
all three together 1 . . ."

I produced this letter for Michael and Digby to read, at
our Sunday " Council of War " next morning.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 231

Michael read it without a word of comment, and with an
inscrutable face.

Digby said, "The little darling! I bet she comes ont to
Sidi if the tiling doesn't turn up ! " and he bounced on the bed,
with glee, at the idea.

" Wonder what Uncle Hector will do ? " said Michael.
*' Poor Aunt Patricia will get a thin time. . . ."

" For not preventing us from pinching it ? " jeered Digby.

" No for nofc calling in the police at once," said Michael.

" I wonder why she didn't," I remarked.

" Yes," said Michael. " Funny, isn't it ? "

And yawning and turning round from the window, out of
which we had been looking, I noticed that Boldini was asleep
on his bed behind us. It was curious how quietly that man
could move about, with his cat-like steps and silent ways.

Recruit-days passed swiftly away, and we were too busy
and too tired to be wretched.

From five in the morning till five in the evening we were
hard at it, and after that we had plenty to do in preparing our
kit and accoutrements for the morrow.

That done, or given to a needy comrade to do, we dressed
in our walking out uniforms, according to the particular
ordre du jour, and went for a walk in tawdry hybrid Sidi, or
to hear the Legion's magnificent band in the Place Sadi
Carnot, or the Jardin Publique. Usually we three went
together, but sometimes the two Americans and St. Andr6
would accompany us, and Boldini whenever we could not shake
him of!.

He stuck to us closer than a brother sticketh, and after
his first usefulness was over (and paid for), as we gained
experience and learnt the ropes, we certainly did not desire
his society for himself alone.

But apparently he desired ours, and ardently.

The more we saw of the two Americans, the better we liked
them, and the same applied to St. Andr6 but precisely the
converse was true of Boldini.

232 BEAU GESTE

However, we were not troubled by his presence when
Buddy went out with us, for the American would have none
of him, and scrupled not to say so with painful definiteness.

" Get to hell outa this, Cascara Sagrada," he would say
truculently. " Don* wantcha. Go gnaw circles in the meadow
and keep away from me with both feet. . . . Skoot, son," or
some equally discouraging address.

Painful as this was, we were glad to profit by it, for Boldim
waxed more and more offensively familiar. Put into words,
the message of his manner to us three (his implications, and
the general atmosphere he endeavoured to create) was :

" Come we're all scoundrels together ! Why this silly
pretence of innocence and superiority ? Let's be a united
gang and share all loot " kind of idea.

I did not understand Buddy's virulent detestation of the
man, though ; and when I asked him about it one day, when
he flatly refused to let Boldim join us in the canteen, all he
could reply was :

" He's a rattlesnake with a silent rattle, and he's Lejaune's
spy. You wanta watch out. He's on your trail fer some-
thin'," and Hank had confirmed this with a drawled, " Shore,
Bo, watch the critter."

The first time that Boldini showed objection to Buddy's
rudeness, the latter promptly invited him to come below and
bring his fists an invitation which Boldini declined (and was
for ever the admitted inferior, in consequence).

Another person who most certainly watched us, and with
a baleful boding eye, was Colour-Sergeant Lejaune himself,
now, alas, Sergeant-Major.

We were, however, far too keen, careful, and capable to
give him the opportunity he obviously desired.

When he came in for room-inspection, he made no pretence
of not giving us and our kit, accoutrements, and bedding,
a longer and more searching inspection than he gave to any-
body else except Buddy.

When I met the long hard stare of his hot and cruel eyes,
I thought of a panther or some other feral beast whose sole
mental content was hate. . . .

" We're sure for it, pard," said Buddy to me, after one

THE GAY ROMANTICS 233

of these inspections. " Our name's mud. That section-boss
makes me feel like when I butted into a grizzly-b'ar. On'y
I liked the b'ar better."

" Yep," agreed Hank. " He's a grizzly-b'ar. ... But
I've shot a grizzly-b'ar, I hev.

" They ain't immorfcial," he added mildly.

It was also quite clear that Corporal Dupr6 had found that
he had said the wrong thing when he replied to Lejaune's
enquiry as to what sort of unspecified animals we were, by
declaring that we were model recruits whose sole object ap-
peared to be the meriting of his approval.

Corporal Dupre was not a bad fellow at heart, but " he had
got to live," and it grew clearer and clearer, as the weeks went
by, that we three could do nothing right and Boldini nothing
wrong.

Our chief offence was that we would commit no offence, but
we felt we walked on very thin ice. . . .

In less than a couple of months we were dismissed recruit-
drills and became full-blown legionnaires.

Above the head of my bed appeared a printed paste-board
card, bearing the legend, John Smith, No. 18896, Soldat
2*** Classe, and I was a (second-class) Soldier of Fortune,
taking my place in the ranks of my battalion. In time I
should be a Soldat \ kre Classe, if I were good.

Michael, Digby, the two Americans, Maris, and St. Andr6
came to the battalion at the same time, and our little party
kept together.

We now learned what marching really is, and why the Legion
is known in the Nineteenth Army Corps as the cavalerie d pied.
The route-marches were of appalling length at an unvarying
five kilometres an hour. Over English roads, in the English
climate, and with the English soldier's kit, they would
have been incredible. Over sand and desert stones, under
the African sun, and with the much heavier kit of the legionary
(which includes tent-canvas, firewood, a blanket, and a spare
uniform), they were infinitely more so.

On one occasion we took a stroll of five hundred miles,
marching continuously at thirty miles a day, as the Colonel
thought we wanted " airing."
8*

234 BEAU GESTE

In addition to these marches, we had admirable training in
skirmishing and scouting, plenty of company and battalion
drill, first-aid, field engineering, varied rifle-range work, and
the theory of infantry warfare.

By the time we three felt ourselves old soldiers, we also
began to feel we were stagnating mentally, and becoming
mechanical, bored, and stale. Night after night of strolling
about Sidi-bel-Abbes was not good enough, and our brains
were demanding exercise.

Michael decreed that we should study Arabic, both for the
good of our souls and with a view to future usefulness at such
time as we should be generals entrusted with diplomatic
missions or military governorships.

Our Arabic proved useful before then.

We got books from the library, engaged a half-caste clerk,
who worked in the Bureau Arabc, to meet us for an hour,
four evenings a week, for conversation ; and took to haunting
Arab cafes instead of French ones.

We distinctly liked the dignified and courteous men with
whom we talked over the wonderful coffee.

We made rapid progress and, after a time, made a point of
talking Arabic to each other. It is an easy language to learn,
especially in a country where it is spoken.

And still Boldini haunted us like our shadow, Corporal
Dupr6 waited for a chance to report us, and Lejaune bided
his time.

But we were wary and we were unexceptionable soldiers.
Even these skilful fault-finders and fault-makers could not
get an opportunity, and we were favourably noticed by our
Lieutenant (Debussy) and Captain (Renouf), of whom we
saw all too little. Theirs to lead us in manoeuvres and war,
the non-commissioned officers' to prepare us to be led. And
in this the officers assisted them only by their authority. In
every possible way, and some impossible ways, they upheld
the power of the non-coms., backed them up on every occasion,
took their word for everything, and supported them blindly.

There was no appeal. What the non-commissioned officer
said, was true ; and what he did, was right, as against the
private soldier. The resulting discipline was wonderful

THE GAY ROMANTICS 235

and so was the bitterness, hatred, and despair of some of the
victims of injustice and personal spite.

A sergeant had only to continue punishing a victim, for the
latter to earn the unfavourable notice of the officer, when the
latter read the punishment book, and to find his punishment
doubled with a warning to beware lest something really
serious happened to him.

The Americans were not as lucky, or not as careful, as we
three. For one thing, they sometimes drank the appalling
maddening filth sold in the low-class wine-shops of the
Spanish quarter or the Ghetto. Crude alcohol made from
figs, rice, or wood, and known as bapedi, tchum-tchum, and
geniewe, would make Buddy's temper explosive and un-
certain, while it rendered Hank indiscriminatingly affec-
tionate and apt to fall heavily upon the neck of the Sergeant
of the Guard, when the latter admitted him, singing joyously,
in the watches of the night.

Then was Lejaune happy, and reminded them of how they
had opened their mouths in his presence, upon the evening
of their entry into the Legion.

When they were confined to barracks, he would have the
defaulters' roll called at odd times, in the hope of their missing
it, and, when they were in the salle de police, would see that
the Sergeant of the Guard turned them out hourly, under
pretence of suspecting that they had tobacco or drink.

Sometimes he would go himself to their cells, in the middle
of the night, rouse them with a sudden roar, and give a swift,
harsh order, in the hope that it would be disobeyed through
resentment or drunken stupidity.

I think he would have given a month's pay to have suc-
ceeded in goading one of them into striking him. It was my
constant fear that Buddy would do so. And daily we dinned
this into their ears, and prayed that something of the sort
would not happen. However, they were old soldiers and wily
Americans. . . .

And so the months passed, and every week I heard from
my darling. Nothing happened at Brandon Abbas.

Gussie had gone to Sandhurst, the Chaplain was about
again, and Uncle Hector had postponed his home-coming

236 BEAU GESTB

after all, and had gone to Kashmir to shoot bear, as he had
had poor sport with tiger in the Central Provinces.

No reference was ever made to the missing " Blue Water/*
no qiiestions had been asked of Isobel, and she had volun-
teered no information as to our whereabouts and her being
in communication with me.

Also she would " come into " her money on her next birth-
day, and she was then going to do a little travelling, and
intended to wander in Algeria !

" Hope she comes before we go or that wo don't go before
she comes," said Digby, on learning this last piece of informa-
tion -for we were full of hope that we should be among those
selected for the big special draft that was going south before
long.

Everyone knew that a battalion, a thousand strong, was
going to " demonstrate " on the border shortly, and " demon-
strating " meant further peaceful penetration with the bayonet,
active service, and chances of distinction, decoration, and
promotion.

If we did not go we should be bitterly disappointed, and
lapse into mere bored and disillusioned victims of a monoto-
nous soul-killing routine, daily doing the drill in which we
were perfect ; cursing the guard-mounting, sentry-go, and
endless " fatigues " ; learning the things we knew by heart ;
performing the exercises and operations we could do blindfold ;
and dragging ourselves through the killing route-marches
that we hated.

But what a cruel thing if we were selected and sent off
just as Isobel was coming !

On the other hand, if we were not taken (and we were still
very junior soldiers), we should at any rate have Isobel's
visit to Sidi-bel-Abbes to look forward to.

So great was my longing to see her that, had I been alone,
I really think that I should, at times, have toyed with the
idea of " going on pump," " making the promenad'e," which
all legionnaires continually discuss and frequently attempt.
This " going on pump," whatever that may mean, is the
Legion name for deserting, and generally consists in slow
preparation and swift capture, or a few days' thirst-agony

THE GAY ROMANTICS 237

in the desert, and ignominious return, or else in unspeakable
torture and mutilation at the hands of the Arabs.

Less than one in a hundred succeed in escaping, for, in
addition to the patrols, the desert, and the Arabs, the native
armed-police goumiers receive a reward of twenty-five francs
a head for the return of deserters, dead or alive.

Being matchless trackers, well-armed, good shots, and brave
men, they are very successful bloodhounds.

However, tfte attempt is frequently made by maddened
victims of injustice or of sheer monotony and hardship, and
their punishment, when caught, varies from leniency to cruel
severity, according to the degree of cafard from which they
were suffering, and to the amount of uniform and kit they
may have lost.

One man, whom I knew personally, when under sentence
to appear before the supreme court martial of Oran, which
in his case meant certain death, got clean away, and was
known to have escaped from the country.

Several, whom I knew, went oS into the desert and were
either found dead and mutilated, or never heard of more ;
and many either escaped and surrendered again, or were
brought back running, or dragging on the ground, at the end
of a cord tied to the saddle of an Arab police goum. . . .

However, we had come here to make careers for ourselves
as Soldiers of Fortune, and to become Generals in the Army of
France, as other foreigners had done, from the ranks of the
Legion. And we did our utmost to achieve selection for the
picked battalion that was to march south for the next forward
leap of the apostles of pacific penetration (or pacification of
the newly-penetrated areas) of the Sahara of the Soudan.

9-

One evening, at about this period of our depot life, Maris,
the Swiss" ex-courier, came to me as I lay on my cot, resting
and awaiting the return of Michael and Digby from corvee.
Said he :

" I have something to tell you, Monsieur Smith. You have
done me many a good turn, and you saved me from prison

238 BEAU GESTB

when my tunic was stolen and I could not have replaced it in
time for the adjudanCs inspection. . . . Will you and your
brothers meet me at Mustapha's at six to-night ? It will be
worth your while. We shall be safe enough there, especially
if we talk in English . . ." and he glanced apprehensively
round the busy room, and jerked his head towards Colonna
and an Italian named Guantaio, who were working together
at the table.

1 thanked him and said that I would tell my brothers, and
that if they returned in time, from the " fatigue " on which
they were engaged, we would look in at Mustapha's.

When Michael and Digby came in from the job of sweeping
and weeding, for which they had been seized by a sergeant
I told them what Maris had said.

" Better go," remarked Michael. " Maris is the clean
potato, I think. No harm in hearing it anyhow."

Mustapha's was an Arab cafe, where we got splendid cofiee
very cheaply- thick, black, and sweet, with a drop of vanilla,
a drop of hashish oil, or of opium, a drop of orange-essence,
and other flavourings.

Here we rested ourselves on a big and very low divan, with
a solid wall behind us, and awaited Maris, who came a few
minutes later.

" It's like this, my friends," said he, in his excellent English,
when we had got our little clay cups of coilee steaming on
the floor in front of us. "I don't want to make what you call
the mare's nest, isn't it ? But Boldini is up to his tricks
again. ... I have heard a lot about him from Vaerren and
from old Ugionnaires who served with him before. ... He
is the bad hat, that one. They say that Lejaune will get him
made a corporal soon. . . . Well, I have noticed things, I.

" Yes. And last night I was sitting in the Tlemcen Gardens.
It was getting dark. Behind the seat were bushes, and another
path ran by the other side. Some legionnaires came along it,
and sat down on a seat that must have been just behind mine.
They were talking Italian. I know Italian well, and I always
listen to foreign languages. . . . Yes, I shall be a courier
again when the little trouble has blown over about the man
I tanght not to steal my fiancee, while I travel. Yes. . . ."

THE GAY ROMANTICS 239

He paused dramatically, and with much eye-rolling and
gesticulation continued :

" Boldini it was, and Colonna and Guantaio. He had
been trying to get them to do something and they were afraid.
Boldini, for some reason, also wanted Colonna to change beds
with him, to make this something easier to do.

" ' Yes, and what if 1 am caught ? ' said Colonna.

" ' You 1 re as good a man as he is,' said Boldini.

" ' And whaCabout his brothers ? Yes and his friends the
Americans ? ' asked Colonna.

" ' And what about YOUR friends me and Guantaio and
Vogue and Gotto ? WHAT ABOUT SERGEANT-MAJOR LEJAUNE,
if someone makes a row, and Corporal Dupre reports the man
to him and I give my humble evidence as an eye-witness in
private ? Eh ? . . . " Brothers," you say ! Aren't Lejaune
and I like brothers ? '

" ' Why not do it yourself then ? ' said Guantaio.

" ' Because I'm going to be made corporal soon,' replied
Boldini, ' and I mustn't be in any rows. . . . Ah, when I'm
corporal, I shall be able to look after my friends, eh ? ' Then he
went on to remind them of what they could do with a thousand
francs more than fifty years of their pay, for a two-minute
job.

" Then Guantaio, who seems to be a pluckier dog than
Colonna, said :

" ' How do you know he has got it ? 9 and Boldini replied,
* Because I heard them say so. They are a gang. Swell thieves.
They have asked me if thieves in the Legion are given up to the
police. When the third one joined at Or an, I guessed it from
what they said. And they were flash with their money. They
got together at night, out in the courtyard, and I crept up behind
a buttress dose to them and listened. I could not hear everything,
but they spoke of a jewel-robbery and thirty thousand pounds.
The one they call " Le Beau " said he kept it like the CANGUEO
. . . the kctngaroo . . . keeps its young ! I heard him jttainly.

" ' And where does the CANGURO keep its young ! In a pouch
on its stomach, and that is where this thief, Legionnaire Ouillaume
Brown, keeps this jewel. In a pouch. . . . He wears it day
and night.

40 BEAU GESTB

" ' And it's a thousand francs for the man that gets me the
pouch. And F II take the chance and risk of getting the jewel sold
in the Ghetto for more than a thousand. . . . Some of those
Ghetto Jews are millionaires. . . . I'd put the lamp out. One
man could gag and hold him, while the other got it, and they could
run to their beds in the dark. 9 . . .

" And rauch more of the same sort he talked, egging them
on, and then they went away, but with nothing settled,"
continued Maris.

Digby and I burst into laughter at mention of the kangaroo,
and Michael turned, smiling to Maris.

When the latter stopped, Digby asked if Boldini had not
also divulged that he wore a sapphire eye, and I enquired if
the wily Italian had not observed a lump in Digby's cheek,
where a simian pouch concealed a big jewel.

" The fool overheard an elaborate joke," said Michael to
Maris ; " but we're very much obliged to you."

" Oh, he is the fool all right," said Maris ; " but he is also
the knave.

" Knave of diamonds ! " he added, with a grin. " I
just tell you because I like you English gentlemen, and
it is just possible that they may try to steal your money-
belt, if they think there is a chance of getting something
valuable."

We filled the worthy Maris up with cous-cous and galettet
(pancakes and honey), and strolled back to barracks.

When we were alone, I said to Michae* .

" You do wear a money-belt, Beau. Let me have it at night
for a bit in case these gentle Italians have been persuaded,
and something happens in the dark."

" Why ? " asked Michael.

" Well," replied I, " you could favour them with your full
personal attention, untroubled with grosser cares, if you had
no property to protect. Also you could establish the fact
that you don't wear a money-belt at night."

" I'd sooner establish despondency and alarm in the thief,
thanks," said Michael.

" What a lark ! " chuckled Digby. " I'm going to wear
.a brick under my sash and swear it's a ruby. Anyone that

THE GAY ROMANTICS 241

can pinch it while I slumber, can have it for keeps. ... I
must find this Boldini lad." , . .

But, personally, I did not regard the matter as precisely
a lark.

I had heard of Italian knives, and it seemed to me that a
man might well be found dead in his bed, with a knife or his
own bayonet through his heart, and nobody be any the
wiser. . . . And even if justice could be done, svluch was
doubtful, that* would not bring the dead man back to life.

We had been long enough in the Legion to know its queer
code of morals, and on the subject of theft the law was very
peculiar, very strict, and very savage.

One might steal any article of uniform, and be no thief. It
was a case of " robbery no stealing." To take another man's
uniform or kit was merely " to decorate oneself," and decorat-
ing oneself was a blameless pastime, regarded universally as
profitable, amusing, and honourable. Public opinion was not
in the slightest degree against the time-honoured practice, and
the act was concealed from none save the owner of the se-
questrated property.

This was all very silly, for it was a most serious matter,
involving very heavy punishment, for a man to be found to
be short of so much as a strap when " showing-down " kit
for inspection by the adjudant. Nevertheless, you might
" decorate yourself " with a tunic, a sash, an overcoat, a pair
of boots, a pair of trousers, or the whole of a man's " wash-
ing " from the line in the lavabo, and no one thought one penny
the worse of you, save the unfortunate whom you had robbed.

The idea was, that if you were short of an article of equip-
ment (after all, the property of Madame la R&j)ublique y and
not of the individual), you must help yourself where you
could, your victim must help himself where he could, his
victim must do likewise, and so on. And whoever was caught
out, in the 3nd, as short of kit, was the fool and the loser in
this childish game of " beggar my neighbour " (of his uniform).

Of his uniform, public property but of nothing else.

Anything else was private property and sacred. To steal
private property was not self-" decoration " at all, but theft ;
and theft, in that collection of the poorest of poor men, was the

242 BEAU GESTB

ultimate horrible crime, infinitely worse than murder. The
legionary did not value his life much, but he valued his few
tiny possessions beyond estimation.

With the abomination of theft, the Legion itself dealt, and
dealt most drastically, for it could not be tolerated where
everything private was so valuable, and so easily stolen if a
thief should arise in the midst.

There was no thought of appeal to Authority in a case ol
theft ; nor was there either enquiry or comment on the part
of Authority when a case occurred and was punished by the
men themselves, according to Legion law and custom.

And we were soon to see the law in operation and to behold
an example of the custom. . . .

Since Michael absolutely refused to let me wear his money-
belt for him at night, I decided that I must think of some
other plan in view of this story told by Maris. I did not
doubt its truth for one moment, as it merely confirmed, in
particular, what I had thought and Buddy had voiced, in
general that Boldini's interest in our comings and goings,
our conversation and habits, our antecedents and private
affairs, had a sinister cause and object.

At first I thought of arranging with Digby that he and I
should take turns to keep watch, but I discarded this plan as
impossible. Nobody who worked as long and as hard as we did,
could possibly lie awake in bed, and Michael would soon have
" put an end to our nonsense " if we had sat up to guard him.

I then thought of going to Boldini and saying :

" Kangaroos have a horrible kick, my friend," or, " Better
not let me see you putting the light out, Boldini," or even
frankly and plainly promising to kill him, if anybody at-
tempted to rob my brother.

After pondering the matter and consulting Digby, who did
not take as serious a view of it as I did, I had the bright idea
of getting the advice of an older, worldly-wiser, and far
cleverer person than myself and appealed to Buddy.

What he did not know about crooks and the best ways of
defeating them was not worth knowing, and his experiences
in the Texas Rangers had been those of detective, policeman,
watch-dog, and soldier combined.

THE GAT ROMANTICS 243

I accordingly walked out one evening with Hank and
Buddy, " set the drinks up " at the Bar de Madagascar ofE
the Rue de Daya, and told them that I had excellent reason
to believe that Boldini was arranging with Colonna and
Guantaio to rob my brother, one night.

" My brother can look after himself, of course," said I ;
" but these curs have got hold of the idea that he has a
marvellous jewel which we three have stolen. . . . What I'm
wondering is whether Guantaio, who looks like a pucca
Sicilian bandit, would stick a knife into him, to make sure
of getting his belt. That's the only thing that worries me."

" Fergit it, son," was Buddy's prompt reply. " Those slobs
would never do that. Don't trust each other enough, for one
thing. Far too risky, for another. That sort of poor thieving
boob wouldn't dare. Why, one drop of blood on his hands or
shirt, or one yell outa your brother, an* he'd be taken red-
handed."

" Shore," agreed Hank. " Not in barracks they wouldn't.
Git him up a side-street and bash him on the head, more like.
Anybody mighta done it there. Lots o' guys git done in fer
their sash an' bayonet in the village negre, an' them low dives
an' hash-joints in the Spanish quarter. . . . Don't let him
go around alone, an' he's safe enough."

This was reassuring, and it was common sense. It would,
of course, take a very cool, skilful, and courageous murderer to
kill a man sleeping in a room with thirty others.

" I don't know so much," I said, arguing against myself and
for the sake of complete reassurance. " Suppose Guantaio or
Colonna simply crept to the bed and drove a bayonet through
the blankets and through his heart. There'd be no bloodstains
on the murderer ..."

" Not when he started monkeying with the belt ! " put
in Buddy. " And wouldn't there be no sound from your
brother ? Not a cheep outa him ? Fergit it, I say."

" Look Tat here, Bo," argued Hank. " Figger it was you
agoin* to stick me. How'd you know where my heart was,
me curled up under the blankets, and nearly dark an* all ?
How'd you know as everybody was asleep all right ? How'd
you know there wouldn't be noise ? . . . Shucks 1 'Tain't

244 BEAU GESTE

horse-sense. . . . Nope. These legendaries don't stand fer
murder in the barrack-room, still less fer robbery, and least
of all fer bein' woke up at night outa their due and lawful
sleep." . . .

" See, boy," interrupted Buddy at this point, " that
barrack-room is just your brother's plumb safest place. As
fer his kohinoor di'mond, I allow he can sure look after that
himself."

" Shore thing," agreed Hank.

" Absolutely," said I. " If there's no fear of his being
murdered in his sleep, there's an end of the matter. I'd
rather like Boldini to go and try to rob him."

" I wouldn't go fer to say as much as that, Bo," demurred
Buddy. "I'd undertake to clear your brother out every
night of his life every cent outa his belt and the belt like-
wise also, too. . . . PYaps Mister Cascara Sagrada could do
as much," and we smiled, both thinking of the occasion upon
which Buddy had " minded " my money or me.

" Look at here, Bo," said Hank at this. " I gotta little
idee. Surpose 1 goes to Cascara an' scs to him, * Pard,' I ses,
' if that English legendary, Willyerm Brown, No. 18897, gits
robbed, Tm sure agwine ter do you an onjustice. Tm agwine
ter beat you up most ugly. So's yer own father, if you had one,
wouldn't know ycr, an" yer mother' d disown yer, 1 or something
discouragin' like that."

I thanked this large slow person, but declined, assuring
him that we could take excellent care of ourselves, and
I had only wanted to know if murder were a possible
contingency.

" Not inside the barracks. Not till hell pops," said Buddy.

" Sure thing," agreed Hank. " But don't let him prowl
around no boweries nor hootch-joints, on his lonesome.
Nope."

" An* tell him from me that I'll mind his money-belt an*
be responserble, if he likes," offered Buddy. " Then he can
sleep free and easy like, an* also deal faithful with any guy as
comes snooping around in the night, without having to waste
time feeling if his gold-dust is there all right. ..."

I again thanked him, changed the subject, and soon after-

THE GAY ROMANTICS 245

wards got them back to barracks, " a-settin' sober on the
water-waggon, a credit to all men," as Hank observed.

And, this very night, there happened that which must have
given certain gentlemen of our barrack-room to think, and to
think seriously, of abandoning any schemes for their quick
enrichment, had they been entertaining them.

I was awakened by a crash and a shout. . . . Springing up,
instantly awake, I saw two men struggling on the floor near
Michael's bed. * The one on top, pinning the other down with
a hand on his throat, was Michael. As I leapt from my bed,
I was aware that the room was alive and that men were running
with angry shouts to see what, and who, had broken their
sacred sleep a horrible violation of strictest Legion law.

" Wring the sneakin' coyote's neck, Bo," shouted Buddy.

" ' Learn him to be a toad,' Beau," quoted Digby, and with
cries of " Thief ! Thief ! " the wave of shouting, gesticulating
men swept over the two and bore one of them to the surface.
It was neither Guantaio nor Colonna, neither Gotto nor
Vogu6 one of whom I had fully expected to see.

White-faced, struggling, imploring, in the grip of a dozen
indignantly outraged and savagely ferocious legionnaires, was
a man from the next room.

I looked round for Boldini.

He was sound asleep in his bed ! And so was Corporal
Dupr6 in his, and with his face to the wall both of them men
whom the squeak of a mouse would awaken.

" What are you doing here, sc&Urat ? " shouted half a score
of fierce voices as the man was pulled hither and thither,
buffeted, shaken, and savagely struck.

" Speak up, you Brown. What about it ? " roared
Schwartz, who had got the man by the throat. " Was he
stealing ? "

" On the table with him," yelled Brandt.

" Yes, come on. Crucify the swine," bawled the huge
bearded Schwartz, shaking his victim as a terrier shakes a rat.

Hank, followed by Buddy, barged into the middle of the
ecrum, throwing men right and left.

" 'Tain't one of Boldini's outfit," I heard Buddy say.

" Give the guy a fair trial," shouted Hank. " Lynchin* fer

246 BEAU GESTE

boss-thieves an' sich but give him a trial," and he seized
the man himself. " Cough it up quick," he said to tLb terrified
wretch, who seemed about to faint.

"Wait a minute," shouted Michael, in French. "He
belongs to me. . . . He's had enough. . . ."

The crowd snarled. Several had bayonets in their h'Ands.

" I lost my way," screamed the prisoner.

" And found it to the bed of a man who has money,"
laughed a voice. " Legion law ! On the table* with him ! "

Michael jumped on the table.

" Silence, you fools ! " he shouted. " Listen ! " and the
crowd listened. " I woke up and found the man feeling under
my pillow. I thought he was somebody belonging to the room.
Somebody I have been waiting for. Well he isn't. Let him
go he won't come again. . . ."

At that there was a perfect yell of derision and execration,
and Michael was sent flying by a rush of angry men.

While he, Digby, and I were struggling to get to the table,
the thief was flung on to it and held down ; a bayonet was
driven through each of his hands, another through each of his
ears, and he lay moaning and begging for mercy. As I got
to the table, sick with disgust, with some idea of rescuing the
poor beast, I was seized from behind and flung away again.

" Lie there and think about it, you thieving cur," shouted
Schwartz to the thief.

" Stop your snivelling or I'll put another through your
throat," growled Brandt.

Hank seized me as I knocked Haf? down.

" Let be, Johnny," he said, enveloping me in a bear's hug.
" It's the salootary custom of the country. They discourages
thievin' in these parts. But I wish it was Boldini they was
lynchin' "

I tried to shake him ofi, as I saw Michael spring on Schwartz
like a tiger.

There was a sudden cry of " Guard / " a swift rush in all
directions, and the guard tramped in, to find a silent room
full of sleeping men in the midst of which were we three
pulling bayonets out of a white wooden table, and a white*
whimpering man.

THE GAY ROMANTICS 247

" What's this ? " said the Corporal of the Guard. . . .

" An accident," he answered himself, and, completely
ignoring me, he turned to the stolid guard, gave the curt
order :

" To the hospital," and the guard partly led, and partly
carried, the wretched creature away.

What his name was, whether he was incited by Boldini, or
whether he was merely trying to rob a man known to have
money, I did hot know.

As Michael caught him feeling under the pillow, it seemed
quite likely he was merely looking for a purse or coins.

On the other hand, he may have tried the shelf and paquct-
age, and then under the pillow, in the hope of finding the
alleged belt and jewel, before essaying the far more risky
business of rifling the pouch and money-belt.

Talking the affair over the next day, none of us could
remember having seen Guantaio or Colonna in the fray, so I
concluded that, like Boldini, they had decided not to be
awakened by the noise.

As all the old legionnaires prophesied would be the case, we
heard nothing whatever from the authorities about the riot
and the assault upon the thief. Clearly it was considered best
to let the men enforce their own laws as they thought fit,
provided those laws were reasonable and in the public interest.

When the injured man came out of hospital, we took an
interest in his movements. He proved to be a Portuguese
named Bolidar, a wharf-rat docker from Lisbon, and quite
probably an amateur of petty crime. He stuck to his absurd
tale that he had mistaken the room and was feeling his way
into what he thought was his own bed.

We came to the conclusion that he was either staunch to
his confederates, or else afraid to implicate them. We saw
more of him later at Zinderneuf .

" Leave him to me," said Buddy. " I'll loosen his tongue
the miserable hoodlum. One night that dago swine is agwine
to tell me an' Hank the secrets of his lovin' heart. ..."

" He'll sure sob 'em out," opined Hank.

But whether he was to do this under the influence of wine
or of terror, I did not gather.

248 BEAU GESTE

What we did gather, a week or two later, was that we were
the most famous gang of international crooks and jewel-
thieves in Europe, and had got away with a diamond worth
over a million francs. With this we had sought safety in the
Legion, that we might lie low until the affair was forgotten,
and then sell the diamond whole, or have it cut up, as ^flight
seem best.

We were Germans pretending to be English, and we had
stolen the diamond, in London, from Sir Smith, a great
English general, to whom it had been presented by the Prince
of Wales, who was in love with his sister. Buddy solemnly
informed me that Bolidar knew all this " for certain." Bolidar
had got it from a friend of ours. No no names but if Hank
and Buddy could get the diamond " rescue " it from the
rascals he, Bolidar, was in a position to promise them a
thousand francs, and the protection of someone who was
in a position to protect them.

" So there you are, pard," concluded Buddy, with an amused
grin. And there we were.

But only for another month. At the end of that time we
found ourselves in the selected draft under orders for the
south, and our chance had come of winning that distinction,
decoration, and promotion which was to be our first step on
the Path of Glory which was to lead not to the grave but
to fame and fortune.

CHAPTER IV
THE DESERT

TTTE left the depot of Sidi-bel-Abbes in the spirit in which
W boys leave school at the end of the half. The thought
of escape from that deadly crushing monotony arid weariness,
to active service, change, and adventure, was inexpressibly
delightful. The bitterness in my cup of joy was the know-
ledge that 1 was going before Isobel could visit Algeria, and
that if we were sent to the far south, and were constantly
on the move, I could only hear from her at long and irregular
intervals.

I poured out my heart to her in a long letter, the night
before we marched ; told her I was absolutely certain 1 should
see her again ; and begged her not to waste her youth in
thinkingot me if a year passed without news, as 1 should be dead*

Having had ruy hour of self-pity, and having waxed magnifi-
cently sentimental, 1 became severely practical, made al)
preparations, tallowed my feet, and, laden like a beast of
burden, fell in, for the last time, on the parade-ground of the
Legion's barracks at Sidi-bel-Abbes.

With a hundred rounds of ammunition in our pouches, joy
in our hearts, and a terrific load upon our backs, we swung
out of the gates to the music of our magnificent band, playing
the March of the Legion, never heard save when the Legion
goes on active service.

Where we were going, we neither knew nor cared. That it
would be a*gruelling murderous march, we knew and did not
care. We should march and fight as a battalion, or we should
be broken uj> into companies and sections, and garrison
desert-outposts where we should be in touch with our enemies
be they raiding Touaregs, rebellious Arab tribes, jehad-

250 BEAU GESTE

preaching Moors, or fanatical Senussi and in a state of con-
stant active-service.

Possibly we were going to take part in some comprehensive
scheme of conquest, extending French dominion to Lake
Tchad or Timbuktu. Possibly we were about to invade and
conquer Morocco once and for all.

Our ideas were vague and our ignorance abysmal, but what
we did know was, that we were on the road, we carried
" sharp " ammunition, we were a self-contained, self-support-
ing unit of selected men, that the barracks and their killing
routine were behind us, and the freedom and movement of
Active service were before us, with adventure, change, fighting,
and the chance of decoration and promotion.

Merrily we sang as we tramped, passing gaily from " Voild
du Boudin" to " La casquette de Pere Botigcaiid," " Pan, pan,
VArbi" " DCS marches d'Afrique" " Pere Brabanqon" and
" Soldats de la Legion" and other old favourites of the march.

Michael, Digby, and I were in one " four " with Maris,
and behind us were Hank, Buddy, St. Andre", and Schwartz.
At night, we shared the little tent, which we could build in
a minute and a quarter, with the canvas and jointed tent-
poles that we carried. We slept on our overcoats with our
knapsacks for pillows, our rifles chained together and the
chain handcuffed to a man's wrist.

We were keen, we were picked men, and nobody went sick
or fell out. Had he done so, he would have died an unpleasant
death, in which thirst, Arabs, and hyenas would have been
involved.

We cheerfully did our utmost like men, cheerfully grumbled
like fiends, cheerfully dropped like logs at the end of a forty-
kilometre march, and cheerfully arose like automata, at the
sound of the 2 a.m. reveille bugle.

We had insufficient water, insufficient rice and macaroni,
no meat nor vegetables, and insufficient bread, and were
perfectly fit and healthy. We had no helmets and no spine-
pads, we wore heavy overcoats, we had only a linen flap
hanging from our caps to protect our necks, and we had no
cases of sunstroke nor heat apoplexy.

And, in time, we reached Ain-Sefra and rested to recoup and

THE DESERT 251

refit, the four rier-sergents having a busy time, chiefly in the
matter of boots.

Here we learnt that the whole of the Sahara was fermenting
in one of its periodic states of unrest, simply asking for peace-
ful penetration, what with Touareg raids on protected villages,
SenuS&ii propaganda, tribal revolts, and sporadic outbursts
of mutiny and murder.

There was also much talk of a serious concentration in the
south-east, engineered from Kufra, and a " sympathetic
strike " on the part of the numerous and warlike tribes along
the Moroccan border.

When this materialised, it would be found that they had
struck simultaneously at every French outpost, fort, and
settlement, on the Saharan border from Morocco to Tripoli.

The programme, then, was to carry fire and sword north-
ward to the sea, and sweep the surviving Roumis into it, free-
ing the land for ever from the polluting presence of these
unbelieving dogs.

Let Morocco, Tunisia, Tripoli, and Egypt join hands, and
under the green banner of a purified faith and the spiritual
leaderslu'p of Our Lord the Mahdi el Senussi, carry on the good
work in the name of Allah the All-Merciful, the Compassionate,
and Mahomet his Prophet, until Islam was again free, trium-
phant, and conqueror of all. . . .

This we gathered by talking to Arab goumiers, marabouts,
camel-drivers, and villagers, in their own tongue ; as well as
from orderlies and officers' servants who overheard the
conversation of their masters at mess. . . .

From Ain-Sefra we marched to Douargala, where a large
force of all arms was concentrating, and from this place we
proceeded south, either to trail the French coat in the sight
of the Arab, or as a reconnaissance in force and a protective
screen behind which the brigade could make its preparations
at leisure and in security.

And, in the fullness of time, after endless desert marching,
the battalion found itself strung out along a chain of oases
between which communication was maintained by camel-
patrols, which met half-way and exchanged reports, orders
information, cigarettes, and bad language.

252 BEAU GESTE

It was at El Rasa, the last of this chain oi oases (which
must have marked the course of one of those subterranean
rivers which are common in Northern Africa) that our half-
company came in contact with the Arabs and we had our first
taste of desert warfare.

Arab goumiers came in at dawn one day, riding in^\uste,
with the news that they had seen the camp-fires of a big
Touareg harka about twenty miles to the south, where an
ancient well marked the " cross-roads " of two 'caravan routes,
as old as civilisation ; routes charted by the bones of countless
thousands of camels and of men who had trodden them until
they died of thirst, starvation, heat, disease, or murder at
the hands of Bedouin and Touareg nomads.

These are the oldest roads in the world and the grim relics
that line them are those of yesterday and those of centuries
ago. They were ancient when Joseph came to Egypt, and the
men and beasts that venture upon them have not changed in
fifty centuries.

2.

We were in touch with the enemy at last. At any moment
we might be righting for our lives. We were delirious with
excitement.

At once our little force in the oasis and this Arab harka
became a microcosm of the whole war, and our Lieutenant
Debussy sent out a small reconnoitring force under Sergeant-
Major Lejaune, which should be to the strung-out battalion
what the battalion was to the brigade at Douargala.

It was the good luck of our escouade to be selected for this
duty, and within half an hour of the arrival of the goumiers,
we were advancing en tirailleur in the direction from which
they had come. Over the loose, hot sand we plodded, our
scouts far in advance and our flankers far out to left and
right.

" Are we the bait of a trap ? Or would you ,call us the
point of a spear ? " said Michael, marching between Digby
and me.

" Both," replied Digby, " a bit of meat on the end of a
spear, say."

THE DESERT 253

And I wondered how many of us would be bits of meat
before nightfall.

Not that I felt in the least degree apprehensive or depressed.
If I had to analyse and describe my feelings, I should say
that beneath a strong sensation of pleasurable excitement
was fifct undercurrent of slight nervous anxiety which one
experiences before going in to bat, or when seated in a corner
of the ring, awaiting the word " Time " at the beginning of
a boxing contest.

I would not have been elsewhere for worlds, but at the
same time I wondered what the smack of a bullet felt like,
and how much chance a bayonet stood against the heavy
eword or the lance of a charging Arab. . . .

There was no doubt about it that Sergeant-Major Lejaune
knew his job, and I found myself wishing that he were not such
a wholly hateful person.

I should have liked to admire him as much as I admired his
military skill, and ability as a commander, and I began to
understand how soldiers love a good leader when it is possible
to do so.

One felt that nobody could have handled the situation with
more grasp and certainty than he did, and that if any kind of
catastrophe or disaster ensued, it would be owing to no fault
in the ability, courage, and promptitude of Sergeant-Major
Lejaune.

To watch him conducting operations that day, was to
watch a highly skilled artisan using his tools with the deft-
ness and certainty of genius.

On a low, flat-topped rocky hill, we halted and rested, all
except Lejaune himself and the scouts whom he sent to various
distant sand-hills and low rocky eminences which, while visible
from the detachment, gave a wide range of vision in the sup-
posed direction of the enemy.

Among others set to similar tasks, I was ordered to watch
one particular: man and to report any movement on his part.
I watched the tiny distant figure through the shimmering
heat haze, which danced over the sand and stones, until my
eyes ached and I was forced, from time to time, to close them
and cover them with my hand.

254 BEAU GESTE

Upon opening them after one of these brief rests, which
were absolutely necessary, I saw that he was crawling back
from his position. When below the skyline, he rose and ran,
stooping, for a short distance. He then halted and signalled
" Enemy in sight"

The moment that I had pointed him out to Corporal S^ldini,
Lejaunc was notified, and he sent a man named Rastignac
running to an eminence, well to our left rear, and a minute
later we were lining the edge of our plateau on the side to
which this man had disappeared.

Here we lay concealed, and waited.

A few minutes later, the man who had been sent off, fired
a shot and exposed himself on the highest point of his rocky
hillock.

To my surprise, I saw our scouts retiring and running
not back to us, but to him ; and, a minute or two later, I saw
a flutter of white on a distant sand-hill.

Rallying on the man who was firing from the top of the rock,
the scouts opened fire at distant camel-mounted figures who
began to appear over the sand-hills. We received no orders,
save to the ellect that we should lie as flat and still as the hot
stones that concealed us.

Between two of these I watched the scattered fringe of
Arabs increase to lines, and the lines to masses of swiftly-
moving camel-riders, and soon their deep menacing cry of
" Ul-ul'ul-ul-\d-ullah Akbar" came to our ears like the
growing roar of an advancing sea.

As they came on, the little party of our scouts fired rapidly,
and after about the thousand-yard range, a camel would
occasionally sprawl headlong to the ground, or a white-clad
figure fall like a sack and lie motionless on the sand.

On swept the Arab Jiarka at the top pace of their swift
camels, the men in front firing from the saddle, the others
brandishing their long, straight swords and waving their
lances aloft.

Rapidly and steadily the little band of scouts fired into the
brown of them, and, by now, every bullet was hitting man or
beast in the closely-packed irregular ranks of the swiftly-
advancing horde.

THE DESERT 255

It was thrilling. I felt I must get a grip upon myself, or
I should be shaking with excitement, and unable to shoot
steadily when our turn came to take part in the fight.

And then, to my amazement, I saw that our scouts were
retreating. One by one, they sprang up from behind rocks
and %d to their right rear, each man dropping and firing as
his neighbour rose to retreat in his turn. Before long, the
little band was again in position, nearer to us and stUl further
behind us. With increased yells, the Arabs swerved to their
left and bore down upon them, men and camels falling be-
neath the magazine-fire of their rifles.

I could scarcely keep still. How long was this unequal
fight to continue ? None of the scouts had been hit by the wild
fire of the camel-riders, but in a couple of minutes they would
be overwhelmed by this wave of mounted men, and, out-
numbered by fifty to one, would have as much chance as has
a fox beneath a pack of hounds.

And as I held my breath, the tiny handful again rose to their
feet, turned their backs upon the Arabs, and fled as one man
toward a sand-lull in our rear. With a simultaneous yell of
mingled execration and triumph, the Arab harka swerved
again, seemed to redouble their epeed, and bore down upon
their prey.

And then, Sergeant-Ma j or Lejaune stood up on a rock,
gave a crisp order, coolly as on parade, and, at less than fifty
yards, the Arab masses received the withering blast of our
magazine-fire.

Swiftly as our hands could move the bolts of our rifles and
our fingers press the trigger, we fired and fired again into the
surging, shrieking, struggling mob, that halted, cLarged,
retired, and then fled, leaving quite half their number behind.

But of those who were left behind, by no means all were
killed or even wounded, and our orgy of slaughter rapidly
turned to a desperate hand-to-hand fight with dismounted
and unwounded Arabs, who, knowing they must die, had but
the one idea of gaining Paradise and the remission of sins, in
the slaying of an infidel.

With a shout of " Bayonette au canon" Lejaune had us to
our feet, and launched us in a fierce bayonet-charge down the

256 BEAU GESTE

slope of our plateau upon the Arab swordsmen, who were
rallying to the attack, on foot. Our disciplined rush swept
them back, they broke and fled, and, still keeping us in hand,
Lejaune quickly had a double rank of kneeling and standing
men shooting down the fleeing or still defiant foot-men, and
making practice at the remains of the mounted harfac* dis-
appearing over the skyline.

Within half an hour of the first signalling of the approach
of the enemy, the only Arabs in sight were those that lay
singly and in little bloodstained heaps, in the shallow valley
into which they had been decoyed by our scouts.

It was a neat little action, reflecting the highest credit on
Lejaune and on the man who was the senior in charge of the
scouts. The latter, one Gontran, was promoted corporal,
in orders next day, and Sergeant-Ma j or Lejaune made
adjudant.

The Arabs must have lost over a hundred men in this fight,
as against our three killed and five wounded.

Such was my first experience of war, my first " smelling
of powder " and my blooding. I had killed a man with cold
steel and I think at least three with my rifle.

Reflecting on this I was glad to remember that these Tou-
aregs are human wolves, professional murderers, whose live-
lihood is robbery with violence, which commonly takes the
form of indescribable and unmentionable tortures.

Nor is the Roumi, the infidel dog, the favourite object of
their treacherous attack, save in so far as he is a more reward-
ing object of attention. They are as much the scourge and
terror of the Arab villager, the nomad herdsman, or the de-
fenceless negro, as they are of the wealthy caravan or their
peaceful co-religionists of the town, the douar, and the oasis.

The man whom I had killed with my bayonet, had made
it necessary to my continued existence, for he rushed at me
with a great, heavy, straight -bladed sword, exactly like those
used by our Crusaders of old.

Whirling this round his head, he aimed a blow at me that
would have split my skull had I not promptly side-stepped,
drawing back my bayonet as I did so. As the sword missed
my head, I drove at his chest with all my strength, and the

THE DESERT 257

curved hilt of my Lebel bayonet touched his breast-bone as
he fell staggering back, nearly pulling the rifle out of my hands.

I found afterwards that Digby had had his coat torn under
the armpit by a spear, which, as he remarked, was not fair
wear, but tear, on a good coat. He had shot his assailant at
a rarge which he estimated as being a good half-inch, and he
was trouble^ with doubts as to whether this would be considered
quite sporting in the best Arab circles.

" Of course/'' he said, " the bird wasn't actually * sitting '
though he's sitting now. ..."

Michael, being particularly good with the bayonet, and a
noted winner of oayonet v. bayonet competitions, had used
the butt of his rifle in the me!6c, and seemed to think it unfair
of the Arab to wear a turban, that diminishes the neat effective-
ness of this form of fighting ! However, neither of them was
hurt, nor were any of our more immediate frier ds.

Having buried our dead and obliterated their graves, we
retired slowly toward El Rasa, weary to death and thoroughly
pleased with ourselves, to make our report. .

3.

The pitched battle of El Rasa was fought next day, our
battalion holding the oasis against tremendous odds until
supports came from the brigade, and the Arabs learnt what
quick-firing little mule-guns can do, when given such a target
as a huge mob of horse and camel-men advancing en masse
over a level plain.

As my part in this battle was confined to lying behind the
bole of a palm-tree and shooting whenever I had something
to shoot at, I have no adventures to relate. I might as well
have spent the day on a rifle-range.

But I saw a magnificent charge of a couple of squadrons
of Spahis upon a vastly superior number of Arab cavalry,
which, shaken by artillery fire, appeared to be hanging in
doubt as to whether to make one of their fierce rushes, over-
whelming and desperate, upon the infantry lining the edge of
the oasis. It was a thrilling and unforgettable sight. . . .

After the signal victory of El Rasa, the brigade moved on
9

258 BEAU GESTE

southward and we preceded it, the weeks that followed being
a nightmare of marching that ended in the worse nightmare
of garrison duty in the ultimate, furthermost, desert outpost
of Zinderneuf, where we had the initial misfortune of losing
Digby and many of our friends, including Hank and Buddy.

They departed to the mounted-infantry school at ^foiout-
Azzal, where the gentle art of mule-handling was taught, and
the speed of the swift-marching legionary increased by
mounting him on a mule. A company of sucii men was thus
rendered as mobile as a squadron.

It was a cruel blow to Michael and me, this separation from
our brother and from those best of friends, Hank and Buddy.

However, we were certain to be reunited sooner or later,
and there was nothing to do but to make the best of this and
the other drawbacks and miseries of Zinderneuf.

CHAPTER V
THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF

*They learn that they are not as others are,
Till some go mad, and some sink prone to earth,
And some push stumbling on without a star/ 1

THINGS began badly and rapidly grew worse in this ill-
omened mud fort, isolated in the illimitable desert like
a tiny island in the midst of a vast ocean.

Cafard broke out early, and in a very virulent form, both
suicidal and homicidal in its nature.

It took this terrible form, I verily believe, largely by reason
of the fact that Captain Renouf , our Commandant, shot him-
self after a month of life in this dreadful oven of a place. I do
not, oi course, know his reason for doing this, but it was
rumoured that he found he had contracted a horrible disease.
This tragedy cast a deeper gloom over a place and a community
already gloomy beyond description.

Within a week of this disaster, for a disaster it waa to all
of us, a most unusual manifestation of cafard was exhibited,
when a corporal killed a sergeant and then committed suicide.
What Corporal Gontran's grievance against the sergeant was,
I do not know, but this again was an exceedingly unfortunate
affair, as, like Captain Renouf himself, both these men were
on the side of the angels, inasmuch as they were decent, fair-
minded, and reasonable people.

But the Fates and the Furies had one more disaster in store
for the unhappy garrison before they were ready to launch
upon our luckless heads the final torrent of destruction.

Lieutenant Debussy, the new Commandant, sickened and
died, and his place was taken by none other than Adjudant
Lejaune.

259

260 BEAU GESTE

From the moment in which it was known that the Lieu-
tenant was dead, the atmosphere of Zinderneuf changed from
bad to worse and rapidly from worse to the worst possible.

The lion-tamer had entered the cage, and the lions, sullen,
infuriated, and desperate, knew that he held in one hand the
whip that should drive them to revolt, and in the o#Ier the
revolver that should instantly punish the first sigu of it.

2.

Life at Zinderneuf was not really life so much as the avoid-
ance of death death from sunstroke, heat-stroke, monotony,
madness, or Adjudant Lejaune.

Cafard was rampant ; everybody was more or less ab-
normal and " queer " from frayed nerves, resultant upon the
terrific heat and the monotony, hardship, and confinement
to a little mud oven of a fort ; many men were a little mad,
and Adjudant Lejaune, in the hollow of whose hand
were our lives and destinies, was a great deal more than a
little mad.

From the point of view of the authorities, he was sane
enough, for he could maintain an iron discipline ; make all
reports and returns, to the minute and to the letter ; and,
if attacked, he could be trusted to keep the Tri-couleur flying
while there was a man alive in the Fort.

From the point of view of his subordinates, he waa never-
theless a madman, and a very dangerous one.

At times, I was almost glad that Digby was not with us,
much as I missed him ; and at those times I almost wished
that Michael was not, much as I depended on him.

Danger to oneself is unpleasant enough, when it is that of
being murdered by a lunatic. When to it is added the danger,
and constant fear, of a similar fate overtaking people whcm
one loves, it becomes ten times worse.

Michael and I both begged each other not to-be so foolish
as to play into Lejaune's hands, by giving him the faintest
chance to accuse us of any breach of duty or discipline, or of
so much as an insubordinate look, even under the greatest
provocation. But we felt that the time would come when

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP 261

Lejaune would cease to wait for an excuse, and that all we
could do was to put off the evil day. . . .

" I'm positively glad, now, that Dig isn't here," said Michael
to me, one terrible afternoon, as we lay gasping on our burning
cota during siesta hours, in our stifling caserne.

" S^nk and Buddy too," he added. " One word of back-
chat to Lejaune would have been fatal. . . . And Dig might
have done it. Buddy more so. ... Or if Hank once lost
control he'd la^ Lejaune out like a pole-axed ox. . . ."

" Some body '11 do for him one of these days, if we don't
soon get a new commanding officer," said I. " And a good
job too."

" Not it," contradicted Michael. " It would be one degree
worse than letting him live. . . . These asses would give
three loud cheers, march off into the desert, and survive about
three days of it if the Arabs didn't get them before they died
of thirst"

" It'll happen," prophesied I. " Schwartz is getting very
mysterious and important these days. Oh, it'll happen all
right."

" That's what I think," said Michael, " and it's about the
worst thing that could happen. And if no one goes and does
it spontaneously, there'll be a plot to murder him if there
isn't one already, which I believe there is, as you say and
we should have the choice of fighting for Lejaune (for
Lejaune !) or being two of a gang of silly, murdering mutineers
with nothing but a choice of beastly deaths thirst and Arabs
in the desert, or court martial and a firing party at dawn. . . .
Rotten."

" If he's promoted Lieutenant and kept in command here,
he won't last a week," said I. ..." What's going to happen
if they make a plot to mutiny and we're the only two that
refuse to join them ? "

" We should join Lejaune instead, where dead men tell no
tales, I expect," answered Michael.

" What would Sergeant Dupr6 and Corporal Boldini do ? "
I speculated.

" If it were a case of saving their skins they'd join the
mutineers, I should say if they were given the option/'

262 BEAU GE8TB

replied Michael. " They probably loathe Lejaune as much
as we do, and neither of them is exactly the man to die for
a principle. ... If they woke to find a gang of bad men, with
rifles, round their beds, they'd ' take the cash and let tfie dis-
credit go,' ' Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum 9 from
Tokotu," he added.

" I doubt if they'd be given the option," I said.

" So do I," agreed Michael. " They're not loved. They've
been whips and scorpions in Lejaune's hands too long and too
willingly^'

" And if we were ' approached * on the subject of a mutiny
and did our miserable duty in warning Lejaune and the
others ? " I asked.

" We should promptly get thirty days' cells from Lejaune
for currying favour with horrible lies, and short shrift from
the mutineers for being escrocs" said Michael. . . .

" Let us give thanks unto the Lord and count our many
blessings, my brethren," he yawned, and, at that moment,
Schwartz, Haff, Crandt, Bolidar, Delarey, and Vogu6 entered
the room and joined Guantaio, Colonna, and Gotto at the other
end of it. Here they conversed in low voices, with occasional
glances at us.

3.

And to me, one night, came Schwartz, as I sat in a corner
of the little courtyard, trying to imagine that the night was
cooler than the day, and this spot, which faced north, less
hot than the others.

He was a huge, powerful, hairy ruffian, who would have
made a great pirate-captain, for he had brains, courage, and
determination, quite unhampered by over-fine scruples of
honour or mercy. He was further endowed with a magnetic
personality and power of command.

" Are you enjoying life, Smith ? " he asked, seating himself
beside me.

" Quite as much as you are, Schwartz," I replied.

" Would you like a change ? " he enquired.

" I am fond of change," said I.

A brief silence ensued.

THE FORT AT ZINDEKNEUF 263

" Have you ever seen a pig die ? " he asked suddenly.

" No," I replied.

" Well, you soon will," he assured me.

" Feeling ill? " I enquired rudely. I did not like the gross
Schwartz.

" m Z^fi are going to see a big pig die," he went on, ignoring
my vulgarity. " A sacred pig. An anointed pig. A striped
pig. A promoted pig. Oh, an adjudant pig."

" So ? " I murmured.

" Yes. Monsieur le Cochon is going to become Monsieur
Pore."

" And are you going to become Monsieur Charcutier, ' Mr.
Pork-butcher/ so to speak ? " I enquired. There could be no
harm in knowing all there was to know about this business.

" Aha ! my friend," growled the German, " that remains
to be seen. So many want a cdtelette de pore or a savouret de
pore. We shall have to cast lots."

He was silent for a minute and sat beside me, gnawing his
knuckles. He was shaking from head to foot with fever,
excitement, or diseased nerves.

" Do you want a chance to be charcutier ? " he asked.

" I have had no experience of pig-killing," I answered.

" Look you," he growled, seizing my arm, " you will have
the experience shortly, etilier as pig or as butcher, for all here
will be cochon or charcutier in a day or two. See ? Choose
whether you will be a pig or a butcher. . . . And tell your
brother to choose. . . . Meantime, if any man comes to yon
and says ' pore, 1 you reply ' cochon. 9 Then he will know that
I have spoken to you, and you will know that he is one of us.
See ? And you and your brother make up your minds quickly.
We don't care either way. There are enough of us oh,
enough. ..." And as somebody approached, he got up
and slouched off.

That night I told Michael what I had heard.

The next, day it was Guantaio. I was sitting in the same
place and he crept towards me purposefully.

" Who's that ? " he asked, and, hearing my name, came and
eat down beside me, as Schwartz had done.

" It's hot," he said, removing his kepi and puffing.

264 BEAU GESTE

" It is," I agreed.

" Are you fond of hot . . . pore ? " he enquired,

" Cochon I " said I playfully.

" Ah ! " he replied at once. " What do you think of it
all ? "

" I never think," said I.

This silenced him for a minute.

" They are ten to one," he said suddenly. " Ten butchers
to a pig. What chance has the big pig and one or two biggish
pigs against a score of butchers ? "

" Ah ! " I said imitatively. " What do you think of it all ? "

" I never think," said Guantaio, with a malevolent smile.
I yawned and stretched and affected to settle myself to
filumber.

" How would you and your brother like to be pigs if I
could find two or three other pigs to join the big pig, and the
one or two biggish pigs ? " he enquired, nudging me.

I belied my statement that I never thought, and did some
rapid thinking.

Had it been arranged that he should sound me as soon as
Schwartz had hinted at the assassination of Lejaune I Waa
it his task to find out whether my name was to be put on the
" butcher " list or on the " pig " list ? Were all those who
did not wholeheartedly join the " butchers " to be shot in
their beds on the night of the mutiny ?

Or, again, was the rogue trying to find out which was
likely to be the stronger party, and did he intend to betray
his friends to the non-commissioned officers, if he thought
them likely to win ?

" How should we like to become pigs, you say ? " I tem-
porised. ..." I should hate to be butchered shouldn't
you ? "

" Very much," he replied. ..." But do you know," he
went on, " I have heard of pigs attacking men. Taking them
unawares and eating them up. ..."

" I should hate to be eaten up by a pig shouldn't you ? "
I observed.

" Very much," he agreed again. " One does not want to
be slaughtered by butchers nor eaten by pigs."

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 265

" No," said I. " Need either happen ? "

" Not if one is a wise pig forewarned and forearmed
who attacks the butchers, taking them unawares" he replied.

" Has the big pig got his eye on the butchers ? " I asked.

" No," replied Guantaio. " Nor have the biggish pigs."

"^j^d are you going to open the eyes of the blind pigs ? "
I enquired.

" I don't know," answered Guantaio. And I had a very
strong convicfion that he was speaking the truth, for there
was a ring of genuine doubt and puzzlement in his voice.
At any rate, if lie were lying when he said it, he was lying
extraordinarily well.

No he did not know what to do, I decided, and he was
simply trying to find out where his private interests lay.
Would it pay him better to stand in with his friends, and
assist in the mutiny and the murder of Lejaune and the
non-commissioned officers ? Or would he do better for
himself if he betrayed his friends, warned his superiors, and
assisted them to defeat the mutineers ?

That he was one of the ringleaders of the plot was obvious,
since he was the bosom friend of Colonna, Gotto, Vogue, and
the rest of Schwartz's band, and had always been one of the
circle in their recent confabulations and mutterings together.

I followed the excellent, if difficult, plan of trying to put
myself in Guantaio 's place, and to think with his mind.

On the one hand, if I were Guantaio, I should see the great
dangers attendant on the mutiny. It might fail, and if it
succeeded, it could only be the prelude to a terrible march
into the desert a march of doomed men, hunted by the
Arabs and by the French alike, and certain to die of thirst
and starvation if not killed by enemies.

On the other hand, if I were the excellent Guantaio, I should
see the advantages attendant upon playing the part of the
saviour of the situation. Reward and promotion were certain
for the man who saved the lives of his superiors and the
honour of the flag, and who preserved the Fort of Zinderneuf
for France. And, of course, it would be the simplest thing in
the world for Lejaune, Dupre*, Boldini, Guantaio, and a few
loyal supporters to defeat the conspirators and secure the
9*

266 BEAU GESTB

mutineers. It would only be a matter of entering the barrack-
room at night, seizing the arms, and covering the suspects
with the rifles of the loyalists, while the guard arrested them.
Anyone resisting, could be shot as soon as he raised a hand.

Lejaune alone could do the business with his revolver,
if he entered the room while all were asleep, and shpotf any
man who did not instantly obey any order that he gave.

In fact, I began to wonder why Guantaio should be hesi-
tating like this. Surely it was to his interest to betray his
friends ?

Certainly he would not allow any ridiculous scruples to
hinder him from committing any treacherous villainy, and
certainly it was far less dangerous, in the long run, to be on
the side of authority for the mutineers* real danger only
began with the mutiny, and it steadily increased from the
moment when they set forth into the desert to escape.

More and more I wondered at his hesitation.

And then a light began to dawn upon my brain. This
Guantaio was the henchman of his compatriot, Corporal
Boldini. Boldini might be killed when the mutineers killed
Lejaune ; for hate and vengeance were the mainsprings of the
plot, and Boldini was hated second only to Lejaune himself.
He might not be given the option of joining the mutineers
when Lejaune was murdered. Suppose the Italians, Boldini,
Guantaio, Colonna, and Gotto, were a united party, led by
Boldini, with some sinister end of their own in view ? And
might not Guantaio be doubtful as to whether the role allotted
to him were not too much that of the cat's-paw ?

Suppose the Boldini party intended to fish in troubled
waters for a pearl of great price ? In other words, suppose
they hoped to do what they had certainly tried, and failed,
to do in Sidi-bel-AbMs, when they had induced Bolidar to
attempt to rob my brother ?

Most undoubtedly these rogues believed Boldini's story
that we were a gang of jewel-thieves and that Michael carried
about with him a priceless gem to which they had at least
as much right as he had. No I decided Guantaio spoke
the truth when he said he did not know what to do. He
was a knave all through. He would betray anybody and

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 207

everybody. He was afraid that his share in the mutiny would
be death, whether it failed or not, and what he really wanted
to do was to follow the course most likely to lead him to the
possession of two things a whole skin and a share in the
jewel unless indeed he could get the jewel itself.

"fa'^ a difficult problem, my friend," mused I senten-
tiously. "'One does not know which side to take. . . . One
would like to be a pig, if the pigs are going to catch the
butchers napping. ... On the other hand, one would like
to be a charcutier, if the butchers are going to act first. . . ,"

We sat silent awhile, the excellent Guantaio making a
perfect meal of his nails.

" And that is a point 1 " I went on. " When are the
butchers going to kill ? "

" Monsieur le Grand Charcutier " (by whom, I supposed, he
meant Schwartz) " talks of waiting till full moon," was the
reply. " If a new Commandant has not come by then, or if
Monsieur le Grand Cochon has been promoted and given
command before then, it would be a good date. ... Do it
at night and have full moon for a long march. . . . Rest in
the heat of the day, and then another big moonlight march,
and so on. . . ."

" So one has three or four days in which to make up one's
mind ? " I observed.

" Yes," replied Guantaio. " But I don't advise your
waiting three or four days before doing it. ... Schwartz
will want to know in good time. ... So as to arrange some
butchers for each pig, you see. . . ."

" And what about Lejaune ? " I asked, since we were to
use names and not fantastic titles. "Suppose somebody
warned him ? What then ? "

" Who would ? " asked Guantaio. " Who loves that mad
dog enough to be crucified, and have his throat cut, on his
behalf ? Why sJiould anyone warn him ? Wouldn't his death
be a benefaction and a blessing to all ? "

" Not if things went wrong," I replied. " Nor if it ended
in our all dying in the desert."

" No," agreed Guantaio, gnawing away at his nails. " No
. . I hate the desert ... I fear it . . I fear it. . /'

268 BEAU GESTB

Yes that was the truth of the matter. He feared being
involved in a successful mutiny almost as much as in an
unsuccessful one.

" Suppose, par exemple, I went and warned Lejaune ? "
I asked.

" Huh I He'd give you sixty days' cellule, and take Damned
good care you never came out alive," replied Guantaio, " and
he would know what he knows already that everybody hates
him and would be delighted to kill Lim, given a good oppor-
tunity. . . . And what would your comrades do to you ? "

He laughed most unpleasantly.

No I decided friend Guantaio would not like me to
warn Lejaune. If Lejaune were to be warned, Guantaio
would prefer to do the warning himself.

" How would they know that I was the informer ? " I asked.

" Because I should tell them," was the reply. " If Lejaune
gets to know then you and nobody else will have told him."

So that was it ? Guantaio could turn informer, having
sworn that I was going to do so 1 Not only would he save his
own skin, but Michael would soon have a friend and brother
the less, when Schwartz and his merry men heard who had
betrayed them.

" Of course, you and your brother would be held to have
acted together, as you always do," said Guantaio.

So that was it again ? Michael and I being denounced to
the mutineers as tiaitors, Guantaio might well be moved to
murder and rob Michael secure in his honourable role of
executioner of justice upon a cowardly traitor.

The Legion knew no punishment too severe for infliction
upon any man who acted contrary to the interests of his
comrades. Guantaio need not fear the fate of Bolidar in such
circumstances.

" What would you do if you were me ? " I asked.

" Join the butchers," was the prompt reply. " You and
your brother must follow Schwartz. Better the enmity of
Lejaune than of half the barrack-room led by Schwartz.
Lejaune couldn't come straight to your bed and murder
you, anyhow. Schwartz could, and would. And he will,
unless you join him. . . ."

THE FORT AT ZINDEBNEUF 869

Yes, undoubtedly the filthy creature was in grave doubt
about the best course to pursue, and spoke from minute to
minute as new ideas and fresh views occurred to him, and aa
his fears and hopes swayed him.

At present he saw the desirability of me and Michael being
mutineers. Just now, he had seen some advantage in our
not being of their party. . . .

Probably the most puzzling and baffling thing to a tortuous
mind is simple* truth. It is often the subtlest diplomacy, when
dealing with such people as this. So I decided to speak the
plain truth, and leave him to make what he could of it.

" I shall talk the matter over with my brother," I said,
" and we will decide to-night. Probably we shall warn
Lejaune. You can tell Schwartz that. And I can give him a
definite answer to-morrow. Then he can do as he pleases."

" You won't warn Lejaune until you have told Schwartz
you are going to do so, of course ? " asked Guantaio, and I
had seen his eyes light up as I announced the probability of
our defying Schwartz. That seemed to suit him finely.

" No, I won't," I assured him. " Neither will my brother.
. . . Providexl, of course, that nothing will be done to-night !
No mutinying, I mean. . . ."

" Oh, no," said Guantaio. " They're not ready yet. A
few haven't joined. Schwartz would like to get everybody,
of course ; but failing that, he wants to know exactly who
is to be killed before they start. It will prevent unfortunate
accidents. . . . Also they want the full moon. . . ."

" Well I shall decide to-night," I said. " And now please
go away. I want to think and also I'm not extraordinarily
fond of you, Guantaio, really. . . ."

4.

The first thing to do now was to find Michael and decide
as to what line we were going to take.

He was on sentry-go, and I must wait.

Meantime, I might find St. Andr6, Maris, Glock, and one
or two others who were fundamentally decent honest men of
brains and character, and less likely than some of the rest to

270 BEAU GESTE

be driven by blind hatred of Lejaune, or the dominance of
Schwartz, into murderous folly that was also suicidal.

St. Andr6 was lying on his cot in the barrack-room. He
looked at me as I entered. Taking my belt and a polishing-
rag, I strolled in the direction of his bed, and came to a halt
near him, rubbing industriously. ^ '

" Are you fond of pork, mon ami ? " I enquired softly,
without looking away from my work.

" I am something of a cochon about it," Ke replied in a
low voice, and added, " Anyhow, I would rather be that than
a butcher."

So he had been approached, too.

" Follow me outside when I go," I said.

A few minutes later he found me in the courtyard, and
I learned that Schwartz had sounded him that day ; told him
that he must choose between being a pig or a butcher ; and
had given him a couple of days in which to make up his mind.
Schwartz had concluded by informing St. Andre" that all who
were not for him would be treated as being against him, and
that eighty per cent of the men had willingly taken the oath
to follow him and to obey him absolutely. . . .

" What are you going to do, St. Andre* ? " I asked.

" What you and your brother do," was the immediate reply.

He went on to say that he had thought of nothing else
from the moment he had learnt of the plot, and that he had
come to the conclusion that he would join with Michael and
me, to do what seemed the best thing.

" You see, my friend," he concluded, " one, of course,
cannot join in with these poor madmen one has been an
officer and a gentleman. Even if one had sunk low enough
to do such a thing, and one eased one's conscience by saying
that Lejaune deserves death, the fact remains that these
lunatics can but step from the frying-pan into the fire."

" Exactly," I agreed.

" Here we live in hell, I admit but we do Ijve, and we
are not here for ever," he went on. " Out in the desert we
shall not live. Those who do not die of thirst, will die by slow
torture under the knives of the Arab women."

" They will," said I.

THE FOET AT ZINDERNEUF 271

" Besides," he continued, " I would not join them if we
could march straight into the service of the Sultan of Morocco
and be welcomed and rewarded with high rank in his army.
... I am a Frenchman and have been an officer and a
gentleman. . . . I am here through no fault of my own.
St.*Andr6 is my real name. My brother is a Lieutenant in
a Senegalese battalion. . . . But you and your brother are
not Frenchmen, and if you could get to Morocco, each of you
could be another Kaid McLean. . . . But you could not get
to Morocco on foot from here. . . . You would be hunted
like mad dogs, apart from all question of food and water. . . .
You could not do it. . . ."

" We are not Frenchmen and we have not been officers, St.
Andre*," I replied ; " but we are gentlemen and we do not
murder nor join murder-gangs. . . . And as you say we
could not do it and would not if we could."

" No, I knew you would not join them," said St. Andr6,
seizing my hand, " and I told myself I should do just what
you and your brother did."

" Well I'll talk it over with him as soon as he comes ofl
duty, and we will let you know what we decide," I said, " but
certainly it will not be to join them.

" Meanwhile," I added, " you get hold of Maris he's a
decent good chap, and see what he has got to say. You
might try Glock, Dobrofi, Marigny, Blanc, and Cordier, too,
if you get a chance. . . . They are among the least mad in
this lunatic asylum."

" Yes," agreed St. Andre, "if we can form a party of our
own, we may be able to save the situation," and he went off.

I waited for Michael, sitting on a native bed, of string
plaited across a wooden frame, that stood by the courtyard
wall near the guard-room.

Seated here in the stifling dark, I listened to the gibberings,
groans, yells, and mad laughter that came from the cellules,
where some, of Lejaune's victims were being driven more and
more insane by solitary confinement and starvation.

When Michael was relieved, I followed him as he went to
the barrack-room to put his rifle in the rack and throw ofi
his kit.

272 BEAU GESTB

" I'll be sitting on the angareb" I said. " More develop-
ments."

" I'll be with you in five minutes," he replied.

When he joined me, I told him what Guantaio had said,
and I added my own views on the situation, together with
those of St. Andre.

Michael listened in silence.

" Position's this, I think," he said, when I naa nnisnea
" Schwartz and his band of lunatics proposing to murder
Lejaune and anybody who stands by him, Guantaio has given
the show away to Corporal Boldini because he thinks the
mutiny too risky. Boldini wants to join the mutineers if
they're likely to be successful but not otherwise. Probably
he, Guantaio, Colonna, Gotto, and Bolidai are in league to
get the mighty * diamond ' one way or the other out of
this mutiny. If we join the mutineers, Boldini and Oo. will
join, too, with the idea of killing me and robbing me in the
desert and getting to Morocco with the Cullinan-Kohinoor.
... Or to put it more truly, Boldini would get the 'Oo.' to
do the murdering and stealing, and then kill or rob whichever
of his gang brought it off. If we refuse to join the mutineers,
Boldini 's plan would then be to get Guantaio to murder me
in my bed ostensibly for being a traitor to the noble cause
of mutiny and pinch the Great Diamond from my belt.
. . . Failing that, Boldini would use us in helping to suppress
the mutiny, hoping that, in the scrap, I might get done in,
and he could rob my corpse. He could do more than hope
it. He could arrange it. . . ."

" On the other hand," said I, " Boldini may know nothing
whatever about the plot, and Guantaio may be wondering
whether to let the mutiny go on, or whether to warn his old
pal Boldini and give the show away."

" Quite so," agreed Michael. " We're absolutely in the
dark in dealing with hopeless congenital bred-in-the-bone
liars like Guantaio. We can only go on probatylities, and,
on the whole, the swine seemed to be egging you on to join
the plot. . . . Well, that means he has some definite personal
interest in our joining it. Obviously if he hadn't, he wouldn't
care a damn whether we joined it or not."

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 273

" What's to be done, Beau ? " I asked.

" Get together an opposition-gang of non-mutineers, and
then tell Schwartz plainly that we are going to warn Lejaune
and also going to obey Lejaune's orders on the subject," was
the prompt reply.

'* Exactly," said I. " Just about what I told Guantaio. . . .
And St. Andre" will stand in with us, whatever we decide
to do.

" But suppose we can get no one else," I pondered.

" Then we and St. Andre will warn Lejaune and tell him
he can count on us three to be true to our salt," said Michael.

" Without warning Schwartz ? " I asked.

" Certainly not," replied Michael. " We can't sneak like
that."

" Of course, Schwartz and Co. will do us in, as traitors/'
I observed.

" Probably," agreed Michael. " Try to, anyhow."

" If we can get up a strongish party, Schwartz's lot may
chuck the idea of mutiny," he went on. " If they don't, it
will be a case of who strikes first. We must warn Lejaune
the moment we've made it quite clear to Schwartz that we're
going to do so then and there, unless he gives up the whole
idea. . . . Whether he gives it up, or not, will depend on the
number we can get to back us."

We sat silent for a minute or two, pondering this cheerful
position.

" Tell you what," he said suddenly, " we'll call a meeting.
The Briton's panacea. To-morrow evening at six, the other
side of the oasis, and we'll invite St. Andre*, Blanc, Cordier,
Marigny, and any other Frenchmen who'd be likely to follow
St. Andre". Then there's Maris, Dobrofi, Glock, and Ramon,
among the foreigners, who might join us. ... I wish to God
that Digby, Hank, and Buddy were here.

" They'd make all the difference," said I.

" Wellif that lot will join us, we can probably turn
Schwartz's murder-party into a mere gang of ordinary
deserters, if go they must. . . ."

Shortly afterwards, St. Andr6, looking for us, came to where
we were sitting.

274 BEAU GESTB

" I've spoken to Maris," said he, " and he's with you two,
heart and soul. I also sounded Marigny, but he takes the
line that we can't possibly be such curs as to warn the un-
speakable Lejaune and betray our own comrades."

" We can't be such curs as not to do so," said Michael.

" Precisely what I tried to make him see," repyed St.
Andre*. " It's a question of the point of view and of the
degree of mental and moral development. . ., . To us it is
unthinkable that we should stand by and see murder done,
the regiment disgraced, the Flag betrayed, and the fort
imperilled. . . . Wo are soldiers of France. . . ."

He stood up and saluted dramatically, but not self-con-
sciously, in the direction of the flagstaff.

" To Marigny and his kind," ho went on, " it is just as
unthinkable that, having been entrusted with a secret by a
comrade, they should betray this secret and thwart and
endanger the friends who have put their faith in them."

" The point of view, as you say," agreed Michael. " Per-
sonally, though, I've not been entrusted with a secret by a
comrade. I have merely had a threatening and impudent
message from a ruffianly blackguard named Schwartz. He
tells me he is going to commit a murder. I reply that he is
not going to commit a murder, and that unless he abandons
the intention, I am going to warn his victim. That seems
a clear issue to me."

" And to me," said St. Andr6.

" I also found Blanc to bo much of the same mind as
Marigny," ho went on. " Averse from promoting or even
condoning murder, but even more averse from ' betraying '
his comrades. . . . I've only spoken to those three so far. . . ."

" Well, look here," said Michael. " To-morrow at six,
beyond the oasis. All our friends and all who are not actually
of Schwartz's gang. You get Marigny, Blanc, and Cordier,
and any other Frenchman you think might join us, and we'll
bring Maris, Ramon, Dobroff, and Glock, and possibly one
or two more. They'll come. . . . They'll come, because,
obviously, it's a life-or-death matter for all of us. We must
try to see that none of Schwartz's gang know about the
meeting, at any rate until it's over but if they do, we can't

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP 275

help it. I suppose we have as much right to lay plans as they
have ? "

" It's a good idea," agreed St. Andr6. " I'll be there and
bring whom I can. About six o'clock."

5.

Next evening, a handful of the better sort assembled near
the shaduf in the shade of the palm-grove, out of sight of the
fort. Besides Michael, St. Andre", Maris, and myself, there
were Cordier, Blanc, Marigny, Ramon, Dobroff, Clock,
Vaerren, and one or two others fifteen or sixteen of us
altogether enough, as Michael remarked to me, to control
events, provided a united party, with a common policy,
could be formed.

But this proved impossible. Ideas of right and wrong, honour
and dishonour, fair dealing and vile dealing, were too dis-
crepant and probably tinctured by other thoughts and motives,
such as those of fear, hatred, ennui, vengeance, and despair.

Michael addressed the meeting first.

" As you all very well know," said he, " there is a plot to
murder Lejaune and the non-coms., to desert and to abandon
the fort. Schwartz is the ringleader and says that those who
do not declare themselves supporters will be considered as
enemies and treated as such. Personally, I do not do
things because Schwartz says I must, nor do I approve of
shooting men in their beds. Supposing I did, I still should
disapprove of being led out into the desert by Schwartz, to
die of thirst. Therefore I am against his plot and I invite
you all to join with me and tell Schwartz so. We'll tell him
plainly that unless he gives up this mad scheme of murder
and mutiny, we shall warn Lejaune. ..."

Here a growl of disapproval from Marigny and Blanc, and
gome vigorous head-shaking, interrupted Michael's speech.

" I sweaiv I will warn Lejaune," put in St. Andre", " but I
will warn Schwartz first and if he likes to drop the murder
part of the scheme, he can do what else he likes. Any sacred
imbecile who wants to die in the desert can go and do it,
but I have nothing to do with mutinies. ..."

276 BEAU GESTB

" No treachery ! " roared Marigny, a typical old soldier,
grizzled and wrinkled ; an honest, brainless, dogged creature
who admired Schwartz and loathed Lejaune.

" Don't bray like that, my good ass," said Michael turning
to him, " and try not to be a bigger fool than God meant you
to. Where is the treachery in our replying to Schwartz,
' Thank you, we do not choose to join your murder-gang. More-
over, we intend to prevent the murder so drop the,\dea at once?
Will you kindly explain how the gentle Schwartz is thus
' betrayed ' ? "

" I say it is betrayal of comrades to tell an anointed,
accursed, nameless -named dog's-tail like Lejaune that they
are plotting against him. Treachery, I say," replied Marigny.

Michael sighed patiently.

" Well what are you going to do, Marigny since you
must either be against Schwartz or for him ? " asked Maris.

" I'm for him," replied Marigny promptly.

" A slinking, skulking murderer ? " asked Michael con-
temptuously. " I thought you were a soldier of sorts."

" I'm for Schwartz," said Marigny.

" Then go to him," snapped Michael. " Go on. . . . Get out.
. . . We should prefer it being neither cowards afraid of
Schwartz, nor creeping murderers."

Marigny flushed, clenched his fists and, with an oath, put
his hand to his bayonet and made as though to spring at my
brother ; but he evidently thought better of it as Michael
closed his right hand and regarded the point of Marigny's chin.

With a snarl of " Dirty traitors ! " the old soldier turned
and strode away.

" Anybody else think as he does ? " asked Michael.

" I can't agree to betraying old Schwartz," said Blanc, a
Marseilles seaman, noisy, jolly, brave, and debonair; a
rotund, black-eyed, bluff Provenpal.

" Well say what you are going to do then," said Michael
sharply. " Join Schwartz's murderers or else join, us."

" I can't join Lejaune's boot-lickers," said Blanc.

" Then join Schwartz's gang of assassins. You may
perhaps be safer there," said Michael, and Blanc departed
grumbling.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP 277

* I must join my compatriots, I'm afraid," said Clock.

" You are afraid ' 1 " mocked Michael. " You have said
it 1 It is Schwartz you are afraid of. You needn't be. You'll
be safer outside that gang of murderers."

" I can't betray my compatriots," repeated Clock.

" Well can you go to them and say (what is the truth)
1 / don't believe in murder and I am certain this business will
end in the deaths of ALL of us. Drop it or I and my friends will
make you.' Can you do that ? " asked Michael.

Big, simple Clock, with his blue eyes and silly face, could
only scratch his head and shuffle awkwardly from one foot to
another.

" They'd kill me," he said.

" They certainly will kill you of thirst, if you let them lead
you out there," argued Michael, with a wave of his arm to the
encompassing desert.

" It seems we've all got to die, either way," said Clock.

" It's what I am trying to prevent, isn't it, fat-head I >f
answered Michael. " If the decent men of this garrison would
act together and tell Schwartz to stop his silly tricks, no one
need die."

" Except those whom Lejaune is killing," said Cordier, a
clever and agreeable Frenchman who had certainly been a
doctor, and whose prescriptions and treatment his comrades
infinitely preferred to those of any army surgeon. " If that
pariah cur of the gutters of Sodom and Gomorrah could be
hot with safety to the rest of us I'd do it myself to-night,
and write my name among those of the benefactors of the
human race."

" Oh ? Where do you stand then ? " asked Michael.

" I come in with you and St. Andre*," replied Cordier,
" though I admit my sympathies are wholly with Schwartz.
Still . . . one's been a gentleman. . . ."

And in the end we found that only Cordier could really be
depended lapon to join Michael, St. Andre, fljaris, and myself
aa a staunch and reliable party of anti-Schwartz, pro-duty-
and-discipline non-murderers, prepared to tell the mutineers
that they must drop their assassination plot, or Lejaune
would be warned.

278 BEAU GESTE

One by one, the others went off, some apologetic and regret-
ful, some blustering, some honestly anxious to support what
they considered Schwartz's brave blow for their rights, some
merely afraid to do what they would have liked to do.

When we five were at length alone, Michael said, " Well,
I'm afraid we're not going to scare Schwartz off his sqheme."

" No," agreed Cordier. " It looks more as though we are
only going to provide him with some extra labour. More
little pigs. . . ."

" There won't be any pigs if Lejaune acts promptly," said
St. Andre\

" None," agreed Maris, " and I'm almost tempted to vote
for warning Lcjauno before, saying anything to Schwartz. It
would give us more chance. . . ."

" No. No. We can't do that," said Cordier. " We must
give old Schwartz a fair show. If he'll cut out the murder
items from his programme, we'll say nothing, of course, and
he can carry on. If he won't, we'll do our duty as decent
folk, and give Lejaune his chance."

" Will he take it ? " I asked. " Will he listen ? "

" Not to one of us alone," said St. Andre*. " But he'd have
to take notice of a deputation, consisting of the five of us, all
telling the same tale."

" A deputation consisting of ourselves, coming from our-
selves ? " smiled Cordier.

" After all, though," asked Maris, " does it matter if he
believes or not ? Suppose one of us goes and tells him the
truth isn't that enough ? If he likes to punish the man and
ignore his warning, that's his affair."

" Quite," agreed Michael. " But it's ours too ! We don't
want to be shot in our beds because Lejaune won't listen to
us. ... If Schwartz isn't forestalled, every man in this fort
who hasn't joined his gang by the day after to-morrow will
share Lejaune's fate."

" That means us five, Boldini, Dupre*, and Lejaune," said
Cordier.

" Unless Boldini is in with them, which is quite likely,"
put in St. Andre*.

" Yes, seven of us," mused Michael, " even without Boldini.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 279

If Lejaime listens to our tale of woe and acts promptly, we
five and the two non-coms, are a most ample force for him to
work with. . . . Simply a matter of acting a night before they
do and there need be no bloodshed either."

"Fancy fighting to protect Lejaune ! " smiled Cordier.
" Enough to make le bon Dieu giggle."

"We're lighting to protect the Flag," said St. Andre\
" Lejaune is incidental. We're going to fight a murderous
mutiny and another incidental is that we are probably
going to save our own lives thereby. ..."

" Who'll tell Schwartz ? " interrupted Cordier.

" I will," said Michael.

" We all will," said I. " Let us five just go to him together
and warn him. We won't emphasise the fact that we speak
for ourselves only."

" That's it," agreed St. Andre". " We'll tell Schwartz that
we're a ' deputation ' to him and do the same when we go
on to interview Lejaune if that's necessary."

And so the five of us agreed to go in search of Schwartz
then and there, to tell him that we would take no part in
mutiny and murder, and to warn him that wo should report
the matter at once, unless he agreed to abandon the part of
his scheme that included the slaughter of superiors and the
coercion of comrades.

6.

As we left the oasis and strolled towards the fort, we met
a man carrying pails, for water. As he passed, I saw it was
the Portuguese, Bolidar, the man who had been so roughly
handled for attempted theft in our barrack-room at Sidi-bel-
Abbes. He had always pretended that, on that melancholy
occasion, he had strayed, under the influence of liquor, into
the wrong room, and that, when caught, he was merely getting
into what he thought was his own bed !

Warned by Hank and Buddy, however, \qp, on the other
hand, regarded the gentleman as the miserable tool of Boldini,
who had taken him up when Guantaio, Colonna, and Gotto
had declined to do his stealing for him.

As he passed Michael, he half stopped, winked, made aa

280 BEAU GESTE

though to speak, and then went on. Looking back, I saw that
he had halted, put his pails down, and was staring after us.

Seeing me turn round, he signalled to me to come to him,
and began walking towards me.

Here was a man with whom a quiet talk might be very
useful, particularly as he had made the first overtures.

" I want to speak to your brother and you," he wfiispered.
" Privately. I daren't be seen doing it. I am, in Hell and
yet I am going to Hell. Yes, I am going to Hell and yet I
am in Hell now."

He was evidently in a very unbalanced state of mind. He
was trembling, and he looked terribly ill.

11 Go into the oasis and wait," said I. M I'll bring my
brother along soon."

" I must hide ... I must hide ... I must hide," he kept
repeating.

"All right," I agreed. "You hide. I'll stroll along
whistling ' Pire, Bougeaud ' when I bring my brother."

" Lejaune will tear my throat out. . . . He'll eat my heart.
... So will Schwartz. ... So will Boldini. . . ."

" Well, you won't feel the second two," I comforted him,
" and you haven't got three hearts. . . . You tell us all about
it," I added soothingly. " We'll look after you. Pull your-
self together now," for I thought he was going to burst into
tears.

" You won't bring anybody else ? You won't tell anybody
else ? Not a word ? " he begged.

" Not a soul. Not a word," I replied. " You wait for us
in the far clump of palms beyond the well," and I went after
Michael.

As soon as I could speak to him alone, I told him about
Bolidar.

" Good," said Michael. " We'll hear what the merchant's
got to say before we tackle Schwartz. The bold Bolidar
evidently want? to hedge a bit, for some reason. , . . . ' When
rogues fall out/ . . . Let's go straight back before he changes
what he calls his mind."

Michael ran on and asked St. Andr6 and the others to wait
* little while and do nothing until he returned.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 281

We then went back to the oasis, and as we passed near the
well, I whistling " Avez-vous vu la casquette de Pere Bougeaud ? "
Bolidar joined us, trembling with fear and fever.

We went and sat down together with a high sand-hill
between us and the oasis.

A first, Bolidar was incoherent and almost incompre-
hensible, but soon it was quite clear that the wretched creature
was turning k) us as a last hope and last resort in his extremity
of anxiety, suspense, and terror.

Realising what it was that drove him to unburden himself
to us sheer cowardly fear for his own wretched skin we
never for one instant doubted the truth of what he said.

He oozed truth as he did abject funk, from every pore, and he
showed it in every gleam of his bloodshot rolling yellow eyes,
and in every gesticulation of histrembling dirty yellow hands.

" My friends," he gabbled, " I must confess to you and I
must save you. I can bear it no longer. My conscience. . . .
My rectitude. . . . My soul. . . . My sense of gratitude. . . ."

Michael winked at me. We did not value Bolidar's con-
science and gratitude as highly as we did his state of trembling
fright, when estimating his motives for " confession." , . .

" On that terrible night when I was so cruelly misjudged
and so cruelly treated, you tried to save me. . . . Yes, even
though it was you whom I was supposed to be trying to rob.
. . . An absurd idea, of course . . ." and he laughed nervously.

There was no doubting the fact that the gentle dago was in
a rare state of terror. His convulsive swallowings, drawn
yellow features, tremblings and twitchings, clenched hands
and wild eyes, were really distressing.

" Most absurd idea, of course," murmured Michael. " What
is it you want to tell us ? "

" Your diamond ! Your diamond ! " whispered Bolidar
hoarsely, gripping Michael's wrist and staring into his eyes.

" Ah my diamond. And what about it ? " said Michael
gently. , . \ .

" Lejaune ! Lejaune means to get it," he nissed. " And
he'll kill me ! Hell kill me ! If he doesn't, Schwartz will.
... Or Boldini. . . . What shall I do I What can I do ! "
he screamed.

288 BEAU GESTB

Michael patted the poor rascal's shoulder.

" There ! There ! Never mind. No one's going to kill
you," he soothed him, almost as though he had been a baby.
" Now tell us all about it and we'll see what can be done.
. . . You join our party and you'll be safe enough."

" Your party ? " asked Bolidar. " What is yowr^party !
And what are you going to do ? "

" Oh we are a party all right. The stoutest/ellows in the
garrison and we're going to warn Lejaune if Schwartz
doesn't agree to give up the murder part of the plot," replied
Michael.

" You're going to do what ? " asked Bolidar, open-eyed and
open-mouthed.

" Going to warn Lejaune," repeated Michael.

Bolidar threw his hands up and shook with mirthlesB
laughter.

" But he KNOWS 1 He KNOWS I He KNOWS ALL ABOUT IT, and
who's in it and when it's to be and every word thaCs said in
the place ! " cackled Bolidar in a kind of broken, hoarse voice.

Michael and I stared at each other aghast.

" Who tells him ? " asked Michael.

" / do" was the proud reply of this shameless animal.
" And when he has got your diamond, he will kill me," he
snivelled.

I was absolutely staggered. If Lejaune knew all about it,
what of our precious threat to Schwartz ? And what was
our position now ?

" Why doesn't Lejaune do something then ? " asked MichaeL

" Oh, he'll do something all right," said Bolidar. " He'll do
a good deal, the night before Schwartz and his fools intend to
strike."

" Why does he wait ? " we asked simultaneously.

" To see what you two are going to do," was the reply. " II
you join Schwartz you'll be killed with Schwartz, the night
before the mutiny is due and I'm to secure the (Jiamond. It
is not really supposed that you'll join him though. And if you
don't join Schwartz you are to be killed in the attack on him
instead."

" By whom ? " asked Michael.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 288

" By me" Wplied Bolidar. " You see, if you should join
Schwartz, I am to be loyal and enter the barrack-room with
Lejaune and the others on the night. As we cover the
mutineers with our rifles, mine is to go ofi and kill you. . . .
If you don't join Schwartz, I am to be a mutineer, and when
you* enter the barrack-room with Lejaune and the loyal party,
in the iligh^, I am to shoot you from my bod. . . . Either way
you are to dip and I am perfectly sure that I shall die too.
... Oh, God ! Oh, Jesus Christ ! Oh, Holy Virgin i Oh,
Saints in Heaven I " he blubbered.

" And suppose I refuse to give Schwartz any answer, and
remain perfectly neutral ? " asked Michael.

" Then I am to harangue the mutineers and urge them to
kill you as a non-supporter ! You and any others that won't
join them, so that it will not look as though I have any
personal motive or feeling with regard to you specially. Then
I am to offer to * execute * you. . . . Having done it, I am to
get the diamond and give it to Lejaune. . . . Yes," he added
with another whispered gasp, " Lejaune is going to shoot mo
if you are killed without my securing the jewel for him . . ."
and he rocked his body to and fro in despair.

" He ought to have an apron to throw over his head and
ery into like an old peasant woman whose cow has died,"
said Michael in English.

" Yes," I agreed. " Let's get all we can out of the brute
before we let him go."

" Is Boldini in this t " Michael asked Bolidar. " I mean,
are he and Lejaune working together ? "

"Well Boldini knows that Lejaune knows," was the
reply. " And those two are going to use Dupre and St. Andr6
and Cordier and Maris and you two, for the arrest of the
unarmed mutineers in the middle of the night. That is, if
you refuse to join Schwartz as they anticipate. . . . But I
idoubt if Boldini and Lejaune quite trust each other. Guantaio
says they don't. He thinks that Boldini intends to get the
diamond for himself, and that Lejaune suspect^ as much. At
least that is what Guantaio tells me but I don't wholly
trust him. ..."

" Don't you really t " said Michael.

284 BEAU GESTE

" No. I don't think he's absolutely honest, said Bolidar
doubtfully.

" You surprise me," admitted Michael. " The dirty dog I "

" He has made proposals to me which I have rejected with
contempt,** said Bolidar.

" Dangerous ? '* asked Michael.

" Absurdly,'* replied Bolidar. " Besides, how was I to know
that I should get my share ? It's bad enough t&have to trust
Lejaune as one is compelled to do without risking things
with a rascal like Guantaio."

" Has Boldini made er proposals which you rejected
with contempt ? " Michael enquired.

" Oh, yes. But as I pointed out to him Lejaune is
adjudant while Boldini is only caporal."

" And what did he say to that ? " asked Michael.

" That a live caporal is better than a dead adjudani" was
the interesting reply.

" Sounds sinister,'* I observed in English.

" Nice little crowd," said Michael in the same language.
" One really doesn't know where one is, nor where to start on
the job of making head or tail of the business.

" Let's get this clear now," he said to Bolidar. " You are
Lejaune's er man. You warned him of Schwartz's plot to
mutiny and kill him, while acting as though you were a ring-
leader. You have told every detail to Lejaune and kept him
up to date with every development. Lejaune has given you
the job of killing me. If I join Schwartz, you are to turn
loyal, go over to Lejaune, and shoot me in my bed when we
are arrested.

" If I refuse to join Schwartz you are to continue as a
mutineer and shoot me, from your bed, when I come in with
the loyal party to arrest you.

" If I decline to declare myself you are to be my executioner,
self-appointed, on behalf of the worthy mutineers who will
have no neutral about. And all this in order that Lejaune
may get a diamond that is supposed to be in my posses*
Bion "

Bolidar was sunk hi a lethargy of miserable thought. He
slowly nodded in affirmation.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 285

" And probably Boldini has a plan of his own which involves
a dead adjudant and leaves a live caporal also in pursuit of
a diamond ! And Boldini 's plan, I suppose, is to support
Lejaune until he has got the diamond, and then withdraw
the ^support and the diamond ? . . ."

Bolidar came out of his fit of brooding abstraction.

" That if\ what Guantaio said," he replied. " He wanted
me to join BMdini, Colonna, Gotto, and himself. We were to
plot, and kill Lejaune and those who stood by him against
the mutineers, after those poor fools had been arrested and
either shot (in * self-defence/ of course) or put in the cells.
When we had got the diamond we could decide whether to
liberate the mutineers and use them in fighting our way to
Morocco, or whether their mouths had better be closed. . . .
We could set fire to the fort and clear out and everything
would be put down to the account of the Arabs. ..."

" And why did you not fall in with this pretty scheme ! "
asked Michael.

" Well who could trust Boldini ? Or Guantaio ! Or any
of them, for that matter ? They are not honest men. Once
Boldini had the diamond, what would be the worth of the life
of the man who had a claim on a share of it ? To have the
diamond would, of course, be death ! To be one of a syndicate
owning it would, of course, be death ! Even to know who had
got it would be death, for the man who had it would kill you
lest you robbed him or demanded your share. . . . How can
one work with such dishonest people ? " and the speaker's
voice broke with righteous indignation.

" And has Guantaio made any other proposals which you
have rejected with contempt ? " asked Michael.

" Oh any number," replied Bolidar. " He seems to think
I'm a fool. He actually proposed that I should rob you, and
he and I should desert together, before all this mutiny business
takes place. I was almost tempted but but "

" Quite," said Michael. " It must be a gr^at handicap."'

" It is," agreed Bolidar. " And besides," he added, " how
could two men walk across two thousand miles of desert,
apart from the question of gouma and the Touaregs ? . . . And
wouldn't Guantaio murder me directly we got to Morocco 1 fl

28 BEAU GESTE

" Unless you murdered him first," said Micllael.

" Yes," agreed Bolidar, " but one might leave it too late . . ."
and he meandered on about the untrustworthiness of Italians.

" Well, now. Let's get down to business," Michael inter-
rupted. " What have you told us all this for ? What do f you
want us to do ? "

" Why," said Bolidar, " I felt I must deal with honest men
and I must get away. It is certain death for me<^ If I get the
diamond I shall be killed for it, or for knowing that Lejaune
has got it. If I don't get it, Lejaune will kill me for failing him,
or else for knowing too much when there is a court martial
about the mutiny. ..."

" Well ? " Michael encouraged him.

" I thought that if I told you two all about it the real
truth to honest men you would save my life and your own,
and give me a share in the diamond."

" How save our lives ? " Michael asked.

" All desert together before the mutiny, and you give me a
third-part share in the diamond when we are safe."

" How do you know we should keep our promise ? M asked
Michael.

" Because you are English. ... In Brazil, we say, ' Word of
an Englishman I ' and ' Word of an American I ' when we are
swearing to keep faith. If you promise, I know you will
perform."

" This is very touching," said Michael. " But suppose I
give you my word that I haven't got a diamond and never
possessed a diamond in my life ? "

Bolidar smiled greasily, as at one who must have his little
jest.

" Oh, Sehor f " he murmured, waggling his head and his
hands idiotically.

" One knows of the little parcel in your belt-pouch," he said.

" Oh, one does, does one ? " smiled Michael. " Fancy that
now ! "

Silence fell.

" Well as you just said, two or three people can't march
off into the desert and expect to live for more than a day or
two," observed Michael after a while.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP 287

" We mighvmake a party," suggested Bolidar. " It is
known that St. Andr6, Maris, Cordier, and one or two more
refuse to listen to Schwartz's plan to kill Lejaune."

" Nor are they deserters," said Michael.

" No but when they know that they are to be killed by
the fnutineers if they don't join them, or to be killed by
Lejaune "if tiiey do what then 1 . . . Tell them the truth
that LejauneVis going to have no survivors of this mutiny
whichever side they may be on. No. He's going to have the
diamond and the credit and glory of suppressing the mutiny
and saving the fort single-handed. He'll teach les legionnaires
to mutiny ! Their mutiny shall end in death for the lot of
them and in wealth and promotion for Lejaune. He sees
himself an officer and a rich man on the strength of this fine
mutiny. . . . And what happens to the men who told him about
the diamond the men who helped him and risked their lives
for him ? What, I ask you ? . . . Death, I tell you. Death !
Death ! Death ! " he screamed, trembling and slavering like
a trapped beast.

" And who did tell him about this wonderful diamond ? "
asked Michael.

" Boidim," replied Bolidar. " As soon as he rejoined, he
told him of the gang of famous London jewel-thieves who had
fled from the English police to the Legion. He and Guantaio
and Grotto were to get it and give it to Lejaune, who would
protect them and who would either place it and share with
them, or keep it until they had all served their time. ... I
don't know."

" And they put you up to steal it in Sidi, eh ? " asked
Michael. " Why you ? "

But Bolidar spurned such an unworthy suggestion.

" Anyhow, we're getting away from the point," Michael
interrupted him. " What's to be done ? We're certainly not
going to desert. I wonder if one could possibly persuade the
gentle Lejaune that there's no such thing as a diamond in
Zinderneuf ? A N

" What pretend you hid it and left it at Sidi-bel-Abb&?"
said Bolidar. " That's an idea ! . . ."

Michael laughed.

288 BEAU GESTB

" Did you leave it at Sidi ? " asked Bolidar,-

" I most certainly have not got a diamond here," replied
Michael.

" Do you swear it by the name of God ? By your faith in
Christ ? By your love of the Blessed Virgin ? And by your
hope for the intercession of the Holy Saints ? " asked Bohdar.

" Not in the least/' replied Michael. " I merely say it. I
have not got a diamond * Word of an Englishman. 9 "

" It's a chance," whispered Bolidar. " Dear Christ 1 It's
a chance. Oh, lovely Christ, help me ! ... Ill tell Lejaune
you left it at Sidi."

" Tell him what you like," said Michael.

Bolidar pondered.

" Huh ! Anyhow, he'll make sure you haven't got it," he
said darkly, and rose to his feet. " But I'll try it. I'll try it.
There is a small hope I'll tell you what he says," he added.

" You'll tell us something, I've no doubt," replied Michael,
as the heroic Portuguese took up his pails and slunk ofL

7.

" Well, my son a bit involved, what ? " smiled my brother
as we were left in solitude.

" What can one do ? " I asked feebly.

" Nothing," replied Michael promptly and cheerfully.
" Just await events and do the straight thing. I'm not going
to bunk. And I'm not going to join any beastly conspiracy.
But I think I'm going to * beat Bolidar to the draw ' as Hank
and Buddy would say when he tries to cover me with his
rifle."

" In other words, you're going to shoot friend Bolidar
before friend Bolidar shoots you ? " I said.

" That's it, my son. If he's cur enough to do a dirty murder
like that, just because Lejaune tells him to, he must take
his little risks," replied Michael.

" And if tLat happens I mean if I see him cover you and
you shoot him Lejaune is going with him. It is as much
Lejaune'e murder as it is Bolidar's," I said.

" You're going to shoot Lejaune, eh ? " asked Michael.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 289

" I am," sai'4 I, " if Bolidar covers you. Why should he
cover you, in particular, out of a score or so of men, unless he
has been told to shoot you ? "

" Well we'll tell Bolidar just what's going to happen, and
we'll invite him to tell Lejaune too. It would be fairer, per-
haptf," said Michael.

" Golly," % I observed. " Won't it make the lad gibber I
One more skyer on his track ! "

" Yes/' smiled Michael. " Then he'll know that if neither
Lejaune nor Boldini nor Schwartz kills him, / shall. Poor old
Bolidar. . . ."

" What about poor old us ? " I asked.

" We're for it, I should say," replied Michael. " Of course,
Lejaune won't believe that this wonderful diamond they are
talking about has been left at Sidi, and he'll carry on."

" I'm muddled," I groaned. " Let's get it clear now :

" One : We tell Schwartz we won't join his gang, and that we
will warn Lejaune of the plot to murder him ..."

" Or shall we tell Schwartz that Lejaune knows aU about
it?" Michael interrupted.

" Good Lord, I'd forgotten that," I said. " I suppose we'd
better."

" Then they'll crucify poor old Bolidar for good, this time,"
grinned Michael. " Serve him right too. Teach him not to
go about murdering to order. ..."

" We need not say who told us that Lejaune knows," I
observed.

" And then they will know that you and I are beastly
traitors ! " said Michael. " Of course, they will at once
think that we told him ourselves."

" Probably Guantaio has told them that, and done it him-
self, meanwhile," I suggested.

" Oh, damn it all let's talk about something else," groaned
Michael. "I'm sick of their silly games."

" Yes, old chap. But it's pretty serious," I said. " Let
me just go over it again : %

" One : We tell Schwartz that we won't join his gang. And
that Lejaune knows all about his plot.

" Two : Lejaune acts before Schwartz does, and he raids the
10

290 BEAU GESTB

barrack-room the night before the mutiny. We shall either
be in bed as though mutineers, or we shall be ordered to join
the guard of loyal men who are to arrest the mutineers.

" Three : In either case, Bolidar is to shoot you. But directly
he raises his rifle in your direction, you are going to shoot him.
(You'll have to take your rifle to bed with you if Lejaiine is
going to pretend that you are a mutineer.)

" Four : If I see that Bolidar is out to mur^r you, I shall
shoot Lejaune myself. (I shall take my rifle to bed too, if we
are left with the mutineers.)

" Five : If . . ."

" Five : The fat will be in the fire, nicely, then," interrupted
Michael. " What can we do but bolt into the desert with the
rest, if you kill Lejaune ? You'd be the most badly-wanted
of all the badly-wanted mutineers, after that. . . . They'd
get us too, if they had to turn out a desert-column of all
arms. . . ."

We pondered the delightful situation.

" Besides," Michael went on, " you couldn't do it. Of
course you couldn't. It would be a different thing if Lejaune
were raising a rifle to shoot you, as Bolidar will be doing to
me, if I shoot Bolidar. You couldn't just blow Lejaune's
head off, in cold blood. That is exactly what Schwartz is
going to do. . . . And what we object to."

And it was so, of course. I might just as well go to Schwartz
and offer to be the butcher.

" Well," said 1, " suppose I cover Lejaune with my rifle
and tell him I'll blow his head off the moment he moves and
then I tell him to . . ."

" Consider himself under arrest ? " jeered Michael. " And
what are you then, but the rankest mutineer of the lot ?
Besides, it's quite likely that Lejaune won't be there. He's
brave enough but he'd like to survive the show. In fact, he
intends to be the sole survivor, I should say."

" Looks as though we've simply got to join Schwartz then,"
I said. ,;

" Damned if I do," replied Michael. " I'm certainly going
bald-headed for anyone who goeefor me, but I'm not going
to join any mutineers, nor commit any murders."

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 291

" Nor are you " he added, as I stared glumly out into the
desert. j

c< What is to be done then ? " I asked once again.

u Nothing, I tell you," repeated Michael. " We've got to
' jump lively when we do jump,' as Buddy says ; but we can
only wait on events and do what's best, as they arise. Mean-
while, let s hpld polite converse with the merry Schwartz. . . -,
Come on." *

And we got up and strolled through the starlit darkness to
the Fort.

" I suppose we can take it that Sergeant Dupr6 knows all
about the plot ? " I said, as we passed into the stifling court-
yard.

" No doubt of it," replied Michael. " I am inclined to
think Lejaune would try to keep a nice compact * loyal
party ' to deal with the mutineers, and hope they'd be like
the Kilkenny cats, mutually destructive. . . . Say, Dupr6,
Boldini, and five or six legionnaires. . . . Some of whom
would be killed in the scrap. ... Of course, one doesn't
know what his plans really are except that he means to get
a diamond, a lot of kudos, and a nice little vengeance on his
would-be murderers. . . ."

As we entered the barrack-room, we saw that a committee-
meeting of the " butcher " party was in session. They stared
in hostile fashion at Michael and me as we went to our cots
and got out our cleaning-rags from the little bags.

I sat down on my bed and began melting wax on to my belt
and pouches, preparatory to astiquage labours.

The conspirators' heads drew together again.

Michael went over to where they were grouped at the
end of the long table.

" Have you come with your answer to a question I asked
you about some cochons ? " growled Schwartz, scowling at
him.

" I have come with some news about a cochon, my friend,"
replied Michael.

Half a dozen pairs of eyes glared at him, and I strolled over.
So did St. Andre* from his cot. Just then Maris and Cordier
entered, and I beckoned to them.

292 BEAU GESTE

" He knows all about it," said Michael.

Schwartz sprang to his feet, his eyes bljazing, his beard
seeming to bristle, and his teeth gleaming as he bared them.
He was a dangerous savage-looking ruffian.

" You have told him ! " he shouted, pointing in Michael's
face. " You treacherous filthy cur, you have betrayed us ! "
and he glanced to where a bayonet hung at the- head of
his bed. /

" And come straight here and told you ? " sneered Michael
coldly. " If you were as clever as you are noisy, you might
see I should hardly do that. You're a pretty leader of a gang
of desperate mutineers, aren't you ? "

Schwartz stared in amazement, struck dumb by the cool
daring of the person who had the courage and effrontery to
taunt and insult him.

Michael turned to Brandt, Hafi, Delarey, Guantaio, Vogue",
and the rest of Schwartz's familiars.

" A remarkable leader," he said. " Here you are, the gang
of you, making your wonderful plans, and Lejaune knows every
word you say, and precisely what you are going to do
almost as Boon as you know it yourselves ! . . . Join you ?
No, thanks. You have talked cleverly about ' pigs ' and
* butchers ' but what about a lot of silly sheep ? You make
me tired," and Michael produced a most convincing and
creditable yawn.

" WeD, what are you going to do ? " he asked as they sat
open-mouthed. " Whatever it is, Lejaune will do it first," he
added, " so you'd better do nothing."

" And Lejaune will do it first," I put in.

Michael's coolness, bitter contempt for them, and hk
obvious sincerity, had won. They knew he spoke the truth,
and they knew he had not betrayed them to Lejaune.

I watched Guantaio, and decided that save perhaps for a
little courage, he was another Bolidar. Certainly Boldini
would hear of Michael's action, if Lejaune did not, as soon as
Guantaio coqJd get away from his dupes.

"What to do!" murmured Schwartz. " What to do t If
Lejaune knows everything ! . . ."

" Declare the whole thing oE," said Michael, " and then the

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP 293

noble soul who iias told Lejaune so much, can tell him that
too," and Michap 1's eye rested on Guantaio.

It rested so long upon Guantaio, that that gentleman felt
constrained to leap to his feet and bluster.

"po you dare to suggest . . ." he shouted and stopped.
(Qui 8* excuse s' accuse.)

" I did nbt know I had suggested anything," said Michael
oftly. " Why should I suggest anything, my friend ? "

"If it were you I'd hang you to the wall with bayonets
through your ears, you yellow dog," growled Schwartz,
glaring at Guantaio.

" He lies ! He lies ! " screamed Guantaio.

" How do you know ? " asked Michael. " How do you
know what Lejaune knows ? "

" I meant that you lie if you say that I betrayed the plot,"
blustered Guantaio.

" I haven't said it," replied Michael. " It is only you who
have said it. ... You seem to be another of the clever
ones. . . ."

Michael's coolness and superiority were establishing a kind
of supremacy for him over these stupid creatures, driven and
bedevilled as they were by cafard and by Lejaune.

They stared at each other and at us.

" What's to be done ? " said Schwartz. . . fc " By God f
When I catch the traitor . . ." he roared and shook his great
fists above his shaggy head.

" Nothing's to be done," replied Michael again, " because
you can do nothing. You are in Lejaune's hands absolutely.
Take my advice and drop this lunacy, and you may hear
nothing more of it. . . . There may be a new Commandant
here in a week or two ..."

" Yes and his name may be Lejaune," answered Schwartz.

"Anyhowhe knows, and he's got us," put in Brandt.
" I vote we all join in the plot and then all vote it abandoned.
Then he caq't punish one more than^ another. He can't put
the whole blasted garrison in his cursed cells, >ean he ? "

" You're right," said Haff. " That's ik Abandon the
whole scheme, I say. And find out the traitor and give him
a night that he'll remember through eternity in Hell. . . ."

294 BEAU GESTB

But the ferocious Schwartz was of a different fibre, and in
his dogged and savage brain the murder oij Lejaune was an
idee fixe.

" Abandon nothing ! " he roared, springing to his feet.
" I tell you I ..." And then Michael laid his hand op. his
arm.

" Silence, you noisy fool," he said quietly. '' ifon't you
understand yet that whatever you say now will go straight to
Lejaune ? "

Schwartz, foaming, swung round on Guantaio.

" Get out of this," he growled menacingly, and pointed to
the door.

" I swear I ..." began Guantaio indignantly.

" Get out, I say ! " bawled Schwartz, " and when the time
<5omes for us to strike our blow be careful. Let me only
suspect you, and I'll hang you to the flagstaff by one foot. . . .
By God, I will. . . . Go I "

Guantaio slunk off.

" Now listen to me again," said Michael. " As I told you,
Lejaune knows all about your plot to murder him and desert at
full moon. I did not tell him. But I was going to tell him, if,
after I had warned you, you refused to abandon the scheme."

Schwartz growled and rose to his feet again.

" Oh yes," Michael went on, " I was going to warn you first,
to give you a chance to think better of it in which case I
should have said nothing, of course. . . . But now get this
clear. If I know of any new scheme, or any change of date or
method, or anything that Lejaune does not already know I
shall tell him. ... Do you understand ? . . ."

" You cursed spy ! You filthy, treacherous hound !
You . . ." roared Schwartz. " Why should you . . ."

" Oh, don't be such a noisy nuisance, Schwartz," interrupted
Michael. " I and a party of my friends don't choose to give
Lejaune the chance he wants, and we don't really like murder
either. . . . We have $s much right to live as f you, haven't
we?"

" Ltve," snarled Brandt. " D'you call this living ? "

" We aren't dying of thirst, anyhow," replied Michael.
*' And if we are chivvied and hunted and hounded by Lejaune,

1JEIE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 295

it's better than being hunted to our deaths by a camel-com-
pany of goums oAby the Touaregs, isn't it ? "

" And who artfyour precious friends ? " asked Hafi.

" There are five of them here, for a start," said St. Andr6.

" And how many more ? " asked Schwartz.

" Vou'll find that out when you start mutinying, my friend,'*
said Marts. % " Don't fancy that all your band mean all they
say."

" In fact," put in Cordier, " you aren't the only con-
spirators. There is also a plot not to mutiny, d'you see ? . . .
And some good ' friends ' of yours are in it too."

" So you'd better drop it, Schwartz," I added. " None of us-
is a spy, and none of us will report anything to Lejaune with-
out telling you first and inviting you to give it up. And if
you refuse Lejaune is going to know all about it. You are
simply surrounded by real spies, too, mind."

" You cowardly hounds ! " growled Schwartz. " There isn't
a man in the place. . . . Cowards, I say."

" Oh, quite," agreed Michael. " But we've enough pluck
to stick things out while Lejaune is in command, if you
haven't. . . . Anyhow you know how things stand now,'*
and he strolled off, followed by St. Andr6, Maris, Cordier, and
myself.

" This is a maison defous," observed St. Andr6.

" A corner of the lunatic asylum of Hell," said Cordier.

"Some of us had better keep awake to-night, I think,""
observed Maris.

" Especially if Bolidar is not in his bed," I added.

Michael drew me aside.

" We'll have another word with that sportsman," he said.
" I think he'll have the latest tip from the stable, and I fancy
he'll believe any promise we make him."

8.

After completing our astiquage and other preparations for
the morrow, Michael and I strolled in the courtyard.
" What'll Schwartz do now ? " I asked.
" Probably act to-night," said Michael, " unless he swallowed

298 BEAU GESTB

our bluff that our party consists of more than us five. He may
be wondering as to how many of his supposejl adherents will
really follow him if he starts the show. ..."

" He may see how many will take a solemn - th to stand
by him and see it through, if he gives the word for to-night,"
I suggested.

" Quite likely," agreed Michael. " And if neither Cruantaio
nor Bolidar knows about it, Schwartz may pull it off all right."

" I don't somehow see Lejaune taken by surprise, when he
knows what's brewing," I said.

" No," replied Michael. " But he may be relying on Bolidar
giving him the tip."

" What are we going to do if we wake up and find that tha
show has begun ? " I asked.

" Stand by Lejaune," replied Michael. " France expects
that every halfpenny legionary this day will do his dooty."

" It'll be too late to save Lejaune if we're awakened by
rifle-shots and * alarums and excursions without,' won't
it ? " I observed.

" That won't be our fault," said Michael. " If they murder
Lejaune and the others, all we can do is to decline to join the
mutineers."

" If we survive and they desert, I suppose the senior soldier
will carry on as Commandant of the fort," 1 mused. That
will take some deciding if only St. Andre*, Marie, Cordier, you,
and I are left. ..."

" St. Andr6 has been a French officer," observed Michael.

" Yes but they'll select you, old chap," I said.

" Then I'll use my powers to appoint St. Andr6," smiled
my brother.

Someone passed and repassed us in the dark, and then
waited near the lantern by the quarter-guard, to identify UB
by its light.

It was Schwartz.

" See here, you," he said as he recognised us. " Come
with me. . . <. Now. . . . What are you going to do if
someone kills Lejaune without doing himself the honour of
consulting your lordships ? "

" Nothing," replied Michael, as we walked away from th

FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 297

light. ** We shall continue in our duty as soldiers. We shall
obey the orders of the senior person remaining true to his salt
and the Flag." *

" The devil burn their filthy Flag ! " snarled Schwartz.
" I spit on it."

"*A pity you came under it, if that's what you think," said
Michael?

" Then you and your gang of cowards and blacklegs will not
interfere t " asked Schwartz.

" If you will desert, you will desert," replied my brother.
" That is not our affair. If we know what you are going to
do, we shall report it, if we can't stop it. If we can prevent
mutiny and murder we shall. ... As for deserting I should
say the Legion would be well rid of you."

" Oh, you do, do you, Mr. Preacher * " replied Schwartz,
who was evidently putting great and unwonted restraint upon
himself. " What I want to know is whether you are going
to fight us or not ? "

" Certainly if ordered to," replied Michael.

" And if there is no one to order you ? " sneered Schwartz.

" Then obviously we shall not be ordered to, my good ass,"
was the unsoo thing reply. " And we certainly shan't hinder
your departure. . . . Far from it," he added.

Schwartz turned to go.

" Look to yourselves ! I warn you I Look to yourselves,"
he growled.

" Oh, we shall. Don't you worry," replied Michael.

" They'll do it to-night," he added, as we watched Schwartz
disappear. " We must secure our rifles and we must keep
awake."

I wondered how much longer we should be able to stand
this intolerable strain, in addition to the terrific heat and
monotony of hardship.

" Go and look for Bolidar," said my brother after a brief
silence. "I'll hunt round too. Bring him here if you find him.
We'll ask him what's likely to happen*if they mutiny to-night.
Then we can fix up a plan of action with St. Andie* and the
others."

I went back to the barrack-room.
10*

298 BEAU GESTB

Bolidar was deep in conclave with Schwarte, Brandt, Half,
Vogu6, Delarey, and one or two others, round! Schwartz's bed.

I pretended to go to my paquetage for something, and then
retired and reported to Michael.

" That's all right then," he said. " Whatever the fools fix
up for to-night will be reported to Lejaune to-night, and he
will know what to do. *

" We'll have a word with Bolidar though, by and by," he
added. " Nothing like knowing what's going to happen."

Half an hour later, we returned to the reeking, stifling room.
Most of the men were lying on their cots. Bolidar was sitting
on a bench, polishing his bayonet.

" Will you polish mine too ? " I said, going over to him.
" Follow me out," I whispered, as I gave him my bayonet.

I strolled back to my cot, began to undress, and then, taking
my mug, went out of the room as though for water.

Watching the lighted doorway I waited in the darkness.

Ten minutes or so later, Bolidar came out.

" Well ? " I asked.

" Lejaune does not believe a word about the diamond not
being here," he said, " and the mutineers are going to shoot
him and all the non-coms, on morning parade to-morrow
instead of at night. They think he will be expecting it at
night, as some informer must have told him that is the plan.
. . . He'll be off his guard. . . . They are going to kill Dupr6
and Boldini simultaneously with Lejaune. ... If your party
is a big one they are going to leave you alone, if you leave
them alone. They will load themselves up with water, wine,
food, and ammunition, and march out at sunset.

" Blanc, who has been a sailor, is going to lead them straight
over the desert to Morocco, by Lejaune's compass. . . .
Schwartz is to be Captain ; Brandt and Hafi, Lieutenants ;
Delarey and Vogu, Sergeants ; and Glock and Hartz, Cor-
porals. . . . There will be twenty privates. . . .

" They are going to court martial Guantaio, and if he is found
guilty they ar# going to 'hang him. . . . / know enough to get
him hung, the dirty traitor. , . ."

"And you?" I asked.

" I am to shoot Lejaune," he replied, " to prove my sin-

TfiE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 299

eerity and good faith. If I don't, I am to be shot myself . . . .
Guantaio has be<?n maligning me to Schwartz."

" Have you told Lejaune this ? " I asked this astonishing
creature.

" I am just going to do so now" he replied, and I gasped.

" AndJ suppose he'll arrest them to-night ? " I asked.

" Probably. If he believes me" was the interesting answer.

" What if he doesn't ? " I enquired, and, at that, the wretch
had another " nerve-storm " or hysterical fit of trembling,
with demented gesticulations and inutterings.

" What shall I do ? What shall I do ? " he kept on. " What
will become of me ? God help me ! Help me ! Help me I "

" Look here," said I. " You tell me and my brother every-
thing the absolute truth, mind and we'll save you all right,
provided you do nothing against us. No covering with your
rifle, mind ! "

He clutched my hand in his hot shaking fists.

" You stand in honestly with our party, and you'll be safe,"
I went on. " We'll prevent the mutiny, and nobody will be
killed. Neither you nor anybody else."

I hoped I spoke the truth. Perhaps if I now told Schwartz
that I knew about the new morning scheme, and assured him
that Lejaune knew it too, he'd own himself defeated and
give it all up. On the other hand, he might run amok, yelling
to his gang to follow him. . . . Lejaune's prearranged plans
would probably settle their business promptly. Would Le-
jaune then go and shoot whomsoever else he thought might be
better dead ?

Bolidar slunk ofi, and I went back to the barrack-room.

Taking my Arabic copy of the Q'ran from the shelf above
my bed, I winked at Michael, and opening the book, seated
myself beside him, and began to read in Arabic, as we often did.

Having read a verse, I went on in the same monotone, as
though still reading, and said in Arabic :

" To-morrow. Morning. They will kill. One now goes to
give information," and then went on with th* next verse.
I then gave the book to Michael, who followed the same plan.
Soon I heard between actual verses :

" We have warned them. Say nothing. He will strike to-

300 BEAU GESTE

night. Do not sleep. I will tell our friends," find then another
verse of the wisdom of the Prophet, before cJosing the book.

Soon after this, Bolidar entered the room and began to
undress.

" What about my bayonet, you, Bolidar ? " I called across
to him.

" Oh half a minute, Smith," he replied, and began polish-
ing it.

A little later he brought it over, and as he bent over mj
bed to hang the weapon on its hook, whispered :

" I have not told him. . . . To-morrow," and went back to
his place.

Under cover of the " Lights out " bugle, I repeated this to
Michael.

" That's all right then," said he. " We shall have a quiet
night."

And then perfect silence descended on the room M usual.

o.

It was an unpleasant night for me, nevertheless, for I by no
means shared Michael's faith in its quiet.

What more likely, I thought, than that Lejaune should
choose to-night for his anticipatory counter-stroke ? He must
have an iron nerve or very great faith in his spies, otherwise
he could hardly continue thus to sit on the powder-barrel
when the fuse was alight.

Or had he other and surer sources of information, than
the tales of Bolidar, and Guantaio's reports to Boldini ! Was
one of Schwartz's most trusted lieutenants merely Lejaune'n
agent provocateur ?

Could Schwartz himself be Lejaune's jackal ? No, that was
nonsense, and this horrible atmosphere of treachery and
suspicion was poisoning my mind. Whereas Lejaune himself
was wholly evil and ^ras probably after Michael's fabulous
jewel patiently and remorselessly creeping towards it along
a path that led through quagmires of treachery and rivers of
blood Schwartz was a comparatively honest and honourable
brute, madly thirsting for vengeance upon a savage beast-

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP 301

tamer who had driven him to utter desperation by injustice
and savage cruelty. And, save for Bolidar and Guantaio,
his followers we'ie like him, brave men of average character,
de-humanised by an inhuman system and the more inhnniAn
mojtster who applied it.

And why did not the monster strike ? For what was he
waiting, Vhen every hour increased his danger ? Surely it
could not be merely the love of the fearless man for prolonging
a terribly menacing and precarious situation ?

Could it be that, before taking action, he really wished to
know absolutely for certain what Michael and I were going to
do when the mutineers rose ?

Or was he waiting to be surer of Boldini or Dupre* !

Of course, if he felt that in the presence of the " diamond "
no reliance could be placed on either of these two colleagues,
and if, as a shrewd and experienced judge of men, he estimated
Bolidar and Guantaio at their true worth, or worthlessness
perhaps it was quite impossible for him to act at all. If prac-
tically every one in the garrison belonged to one of two parties
the " honest " mutineers determined to desert, or the ras-
cally thieves determined to steal the great jewel and get away
with it what could the man do ?

Was he hoping to use the thieves to fight the mutineers
and to deal with the surviving party himself ? Hardly that,
for the mutineers greatly outnumbered the thieves.

On the other hand, could he not quite easily secure the
arms of the mutineers, and arrest the men in their beds by
employing the thieves ? He could but what then ? The
thieves would murder him and escape with the jewel probably
releasing the mutineers and organising them as the " dia-
mond's " unsuspecting escort to Morocco. And each man of
the thief -party (Boldini, Guantaio, Golonna, Gotto, and quite
probably Vogue* and Dupre*) would hope that by good luck
or more likely by good management he would be sole sur-
vivor of the thief-party.

I tried to* put myself in Lejaune's place.

What should I do if I were he, in such circumstances ?
If I wished first to save my life, and secondly to secure a gem
of great price which I believed to be reposing in the pouch of

302 BEAU GESTE

one of the two or three men upon whom I could depend in
time of trouble ?

And I found it easier to ask the question than to answer
it, since one party wanted my life and the other party wanted
the jewel. ,

Having tried to put myself in Lejaune's place, I began to
understand his delay in acting. He did no thing Hbebause he
could do nothing.

I almost began to pity the man as I realised his position.
He had not a soul to turn to in his loneliness and danger.
Well he was now reaping the reward of his consistent
brutality to all who were his subordinates, as well as of his
beastly avarice.

Hitherto he had always been backed by the immeasurable
power and authority of his superiors, and could inevitably
rely upon their inalienable support and unswerving approval.
Now he had no superiors, and, face to face with the men
whom he had so long outraged, bedevilled, and wronged, he
must stand or fall alone.

And it looked as though he must fall.

Then an idea occurred to me. Had he sent for outside kelp ?
Was a column already on its way from Tokotu, where there
were Senegalese as well as a mule-mounted company of the
Legion ? Was that what he was waiting for ?

No. In the first place he would sooner, I felt absolutely
certain, lose his life than send out an appeal for help against
the very men he was supposed to command, the very men whose
trembling disciplined fear of him was his chief pride and
loudest boast. It would certainly be the end of all promotion
for Adjudant Lejaune if he had to do such a thing as that.
In the second place it might also destroy this chance of getting
the fabulous gem. It was only in very troubled waters that
he, in his position, could fish for that.

I decided that there had been no 8.0.8. appeal from Zinder-
neuf to Tokotu.

I tossed an<L(;urned in my hot and uncomfortable bed as the
problem tossed and turned in my hot uncomfortable brain ; and
my attempt to decide what I should do in Lejaune's place ended
in my deciding that I simply did not know what I could do.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 303

It almost seemed best for Lejaune to put himself at the
head of the " hbnest " mutineers, arrest the thief -party, and
then appeal to fee others with promises of amendment in his
conduct and reform of their condition. . . . But arrest the
thieves for what ? . . . And suppose the mutineers laughed
at the promised amelioration of their lot ?

It was a* hopless impasse. I gave it up and turned once
more on to my other side. This brought my face toward the
door and there, in the doorway, stood Lejaune.

There stood Lejaune looking from bed to bed. He was
quite alone and he held a revolver in his hand. . . . Whom
was he going to shoot ?

Was this the beginning of the end ?

Without thinking, I raised myself on my elbow.

He saw me at once, and, first placing a finger to his lips,
beckoned to me.

I stared in amazement.

Frowning savagely, he beckoned again, with a swift and
imperious movement of his arm.

What was the idea ? Was he going to murder me outside ?
Or was he going to tell me to fetch Michael out ? In that
case, had 1 better refuse or just spring on him, get the revolver,
and . . . and what ? Neither murder nor mutiny was going
to improve our precarious position.

As these thoughts flashed through my mind, I seized my
trousers and tunic, struggled into them, and tiptoed to the
door.

" Follow me," said Lejaune, and led the way to his quarters.

Closing the door of his bare, comfortless little room, and
seating himself at the table, Lejaune stared at me in silence,
his hot arrogant eyes glaring beneath heavy eyebrows con-
tracted in a fierce evil-tempered frown.

"Do you and your miserable brother want to live ? "
he suddenly growled. " Answer me, you dog."

" On the .whole, I think so, mon Adjudant," I replied, trying
to strike a note between defiant impudenc^ and cringing
servility.

" Oh on the whole, you do, do you ? " sneered Lejaune,
and again stared in silence. " Well if you do, you'd better

804 BEAU GESTE

listen carefully to what I say, for only I can save you. D'you
understand ? Answer me, you swine."

" Yes, won Adjudant," I replied.

" See here then, you infection," he went on, " there's some
talk among those dogs, of a jewel. A diamond your gong
of jewel -thieves got away with, in London. Also there is a
plot among them to murder you both and steal it, 'an& desert
with it."

" Is that so, won Adjudant ? " said I, as he stopped.

" Don't you answer me I God smite you, you unspeakable
corruption ! " he roared. " Yes, it is so," he went on, mimick-
ing me savagely, " and I know all about it, as I know every-
thing else that is done, and said, and thought too thought,
I say in this place. . . . Now I don't care a curse what you
stole, and I don't care a curse what becomes of you and that
anointed thief, your brother ; but I won't have plots and
plans and murders in any force under my command. Under-
stand that ! D'you hear me, sacred animal ? Answer me."

" I hear you, won Adjudant," I admitted.

" Very well then," he growled. " I am going to teach these
sacred curs to attend to their duty and leave diamonds and
plots alone. By God, I am ! To that end, I am going to detail
you and your brother and a few more say, L6gionnaires
St. Andr6, Cordier, and Maris, as a Corporal's guard to arrest
the ringleaders among those impudent swine. And I myself
am going to attend to the business. You'll act at my personal
orders, under my personal command, and you'll shoot down
any man whom I tell you to shoot as mutineering mad dogs
should be shot. D'you hear me, you fish-faced, cod-eyed,
bug-eating, dumb crkin ! Answer me ! "

" I hear you, won Adjudant" I replied.

" Well say so then, grinning imbecile. And to put an end
to this thrice-accursed nonsense, and prevent any more dis-
turbances of this sort, your brother will hand over this diamond
to me. 1*11 put it where u/> plots and plans will trouble it. ...
You and your parsed jewels I Wrecking discipline and causing
trouble ! You ought to be doing twenty years in gaol, the
pair of you. . . , D'you hear me, blast your soul ! Answer
me, damn you.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 105

44 1 hear you^tnon Adjudant" I replied.

" Very well. To-morrow morning, you and your brother
and the others vull have duties assigned you. You'll be given
ammunition. You or your brother or both, will be put ever
the* magazine, and will shoot anyone, except myself, who
approaches it. Anyone, you understand, whether non-com-
missioned *officer or legionnaire. . . . 1*11 teach the swine
by God, I'll teach them ! . . . Now then ... it was your
brother I wanted, but you happened to be awake and I saw
no point in entering that cage of treacherous hyenas go and
tell your brother what I have said, and as soon as I hare that
diamond locked for safety in the Company treasure-chest,
I'll give you a chance to save your worthless lives. . . .

" Listen carefully now. Creep back and wake your brother,
St. Andre", Maris, and Cordier, and tell them to get up and steal
silently from the room with their rifles. ... I shall be at the
door with that revolver and 1*11 shoot anybody on the first
movement that I don't like. . . . Go I . . ."

I saluted and turned about.

So the hour had come ! And Lejaune was about to act I
Moreover he was going to act on Bolidar's information that
Michael, Maris, St. Andre", Cordier, and I had refused to join
the mutineers, and so belonged to neither party. He was
going to make us five loyal soldiers the executioners of the
rebels.

He had a perfect right to order us to Beize any mutineer
and to shoot the man if he resisted arrest. Also it was our
plain duty to obey him. . . .

But Michael ? What would happen when Michael denied
any knowledge of a diamond ? How would he fare at Lejaune's
hands when the mutiny had been suppressed ? Lejaune's
bare word was sufficient to send him to join the defeated
mutineers whether they were in the next world or in that
antechamber of the next world, the Penal Battalion. . . .

" Make a, sound or a false mov% and you'll be the first
that dies the first of many, I hope," growl?*! Lejaune, as
I crept down the passage between thick mud walls, and I felt
the muzzle of his revolver jabbed into the small of my back.

The blood surged to my head, and I all but sprang round.

806 BEAU GESTE

One second's space of time for a drive at the point of his jaw
and I asked no more.

But he wouldn't give me that second, an4 I couldn't do
much for Michael with my spine shattered by a 450 ex-
panding bullet. Lejaune would think as much of shooting
me as he would of putting his foot on a scorpion. . . . And if,
by any wild chance, I succeeded, and knocked hirfi out and
secured the revolver how should we be any the better off ?
Boldini and his gang, and probably Dupr6 too, were aftei
the " diamond," and would kill Michael to get it. ...

With Lejaune following, I reached the door of our barrack-
roora. Here the adjudant halted, his revolver raised, and
whispered :

" Your brother, Maris, Cordier, St. Andre" quick. , . ."
I crept to Michael's bed.

What would happen if he sprang up with a shout, and roused
the snoring sleepers around him ? Could Lejaune overawe
the lot, or would they, empty-handed, have the courage to
rush him ? Probably they would not. Everybody waits for
a lead in a case like that.

I began whispering in Michael's ear.

" Beau, old chap ! . . . It's John. . . . Don't make a
noise. . . . Beau, old chap ! . . . It's John. . . Hush I
Don't make a noise. ..."

He woke, and was instantly alert.

" What's up ? " he whispered.

" Take your tunic and trousers and boots, get your rifle,
and go out. Lejaune is relying on our party. Take youi
bayonet. ..."

He saw Lejaune in the doorway, near which was the night-
lamp, and got off his cot.

I crept to St. Andr6, and woke him in the same way.

" The adjudant wants us," I whispered. " He's at th&
door."

" Good ! " said St. Anjlre\ " It is time he did something."

Maris also w^ke quietly, and soon grasped what was wanted
of him.

By the time I had roused Cordier, Michael was creeping
from the room, dressed, his rifle in his hand. I saw Lejaune

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 307

give him some cartridges from his bulging side-pockets. I
crept out too, 'taking my rifle aud bayonet, and Lejaune gave
me ten cartridges.

" Go outside and load," he whispered. " Quick. . . . Then
shpot any man, at once, if he sets his foot on the floor, after
a warning. "

We*ch&rged our magazines and stood behind Lejauno in
the doorway, rifles at the ready. St. Andre joined us and
received the same orders. Lejaune shook his fist at Maris and
Cordier, and beckoned to them angrily. Not one of the
sleepers stirred.

When the other two joined us, Lejaune said :

" St. Andre" and Cordicr remain here until relieved. If
any man wakes, order silence, cover him with your rifle, and
say you'll shoot him if he leaves his bed. Do it at once, to
any man and every man, who disobeys. Fail, and I'll shoot
you myself. . . . Follow me, you others," and he quietly
returned to his quarters.

" Guard the door, you," he said to Maris, " and shoot
anybody who approaches. Anybody, I say."

" Now you, quick" he said, entering the room and closing
the door. " Give me this wretched diamond that is the cause
of all this trouble."

He glared at Michael.

" You jewel -thieves have corrupted the whole of this gar-
rison, and are a menace to discipline. I'll take charge of it
now ; and then I'll take charge of some of those swine who
think they can plot murder and robbery and desertion in
my Company, by God ! . . . Out with it, you thieving gaol-
bird. . . . Quick. . . . Unless you want your throat cut by
those mad dogs of mutineers who've fixed your business for
this morning, at parade. ... Oh yes, I know all about it.
. . . Quick, I say the Devil blast your dirty soul . . ."
and he shook his fist.

Michael stared back, as one lost in Astonishment and wonder.

" ' Diamond,' Monsieur VAdjudant ? " he murmured.

Lejaune's swarthy face was suffused, his eyes bulged and
blazed.

" You try any tricks with me and I'll blow your filthy head

308 BEAU GESTE

off here and now ! " he roared, picking up his revolver from
the table where he had laid it.

" Give me that diamond, you ecurvy houifi, and I'll keep
it until I know whose property it is. D'you think I'm going to
have the discipline of this fort spoiled by every cursed nui-
away jewel-thief that chooses to hide here with his swag, and
tempt honest men ? . . . Out with it, you gallows-cneating
gaol-breaker, before I put you where you belong. . . . Quick! "

" I have no diamond, won Adjudant" replied Michael
quietly, and giving back look for look.

" As I could have told you, man Adjudant, 99 1 put in, " my
brother has never had a diamond in his life and neither have I."

Words failed Lejaune.

I thought (and hoped) that he was going to have an apo-
plectic fit. His red face went purple and his eyes bulged yet
more. He drew back his lips, baring his cruel-looking teeth
and causing his moustache to bristle.

He raised and pointed the revolver, and I was just about to
bring up my rifle, but had the presence of mind to realise
that he could shoot twice with the lifted revolver, before I
could even bring my rifle up to cover him. Michael did not
turn & hair, and I was thankful that I, too, had sufficient
restraint to stand motionless at attention. A movement
would have been mutiny, and probably death.

I felt certain that Lejaune would have shot us both, then
and there (and would have searched Michael's body), but for
the precarious position in which he himself stood, and the fact
that he needed us alive for the present.

At any moment we might hear the rifles of St. Andr6 and
Cordier, as the mutineers rushed them. Or, at any moment,
for all that Lejaune knew, the mutineers might burst into the
room, headed by St. Andre*, Cordier, and Maris, to kill him.
He believed that, like Michael and me, these three were faith-
ful but he did not know they were.

He was a brave man. r Situated as he was, his .life hanging
by a thread, Jke still attended to the business in hand. He
turned his heavy glare from Michael to me.

" Oh ? You would talk, would you ? " he said, in a quiet
and most sinister tone of terrible self -repression, " Well t

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 309

Well I You haven't much more time for talking. Not many
more words to' say. . . . Would you like to make another
remark or two Before I shoot you ? ... No ? ... Won't
you speak again, -gaol -bird ? A little prayer, perhaps ? . . ."
an<J the scoundrel turned the revolver from Michael's face to
mine, and back again to Michael's.

It wJs rfiost unpleasant, the twitching finger of an infuriated
homicidal maniac on the hair trigger of a loaded revolver,
a yard from one's face a maniac who longed for our deaths
that he might enrich himself beyond the dreams of his own
avarice !

He began to swear blasphemously, horribly, foully. All
that he had learnt of vileness among the vile with whom he
had consorted, he poured over us. He literally and actually
foamed.

We stood like statues. He put the revolver down in front
of him, the better to tear his hair with both hands.

I thought of the aborigines of the Congo over whom his
power had been absolute, and whose lives and deaths were in
his hand and mere questions of his profit and loss . . .

And then suddenly, a thought which had been clamouring
for attention for some minutes suddenly occupied my mind
and brought comfort and a curious sense of security.

Of course, Lejaune would do nothing to us until the mmtiny
was quelled, and he was again unthreatened and supreme.

We five were his only defence, the sole support of his
authority, his one chance of saving not only his life, but his
reputation and career. Obviously he would not kill two-fifths
nor one -fifth of his loyal troops at the moment of his greatest
need. It was absurd.

And then, without thought, I did what would have been
the bravest thing of my life if it had been done consciously,
and with intent. I defied, insulted, and outfaced Lejaune !

" Look here, Lejaune/ 1 said I coolly, and in the manner of
an Oxford undergraduate addressing an extoitionate cabman
or an impudent servant. " Look here, Lejaipe, don't be a
silly fool. Can't you understand that in about two minutes
you may be hanging on that wall with bayonets through your
hands and left there, in a burning fort, to die ! Or pinned

310 BEAU GESTE

out on the roof "with the sun in your face ? Don't be Buch
an ass. We've got no diamond and you've got five good men
to fight for you, more's the pity ! Stop gibberfhg about jewels
and be thankful that we five know our duty if you don't. . . ."

" Very Stout Fella," murmured my brother. " Order* of
Michael for you, John."

What would happen if the meanest slave in his palace went
up to the Emperor of Abyssinia and smacked his face 1 . . .
I don't know. Nor did Lejaune, or he would have done it,
I think.

Probably the Emperor would begin by gasping and feeling
faint. Lejaune gasped and looked faint.

Then he sprang to his feet with a sound that was a mixture
of a roar, howl, and scream. As he did so, Michael's left hand
made a swift, circling swoop, passed under Lejaune's hand,
and swept the revolver to the floor.

Almost as it clattered to the ground, my bayonet was at
Lejaune's throat and my finger was round my trigger.

Whether Lejaune had been going to shoot or not, I do not
know, but he certainly looked as though rage had destroyed
the last of his sanity, and our death was all he cared about.

Anyhow, he couldn't shoot now.

" Move and I'll kill you," I hissed dramatically, feeling
like a cinema star and an ass.

Michael picked up the revolver.

" So you are mutineers, you beautiful loyal lying grandsons
of Gadarene swine, are you ? " panted Lejaune, moving his
head from side to side, and drawing deep breaths as though
choking.

" Not at all," said Michael calmly. " We're decent soldiers
wishing to do our duty properly not to babble about diamonds
two minutes before a mutiny breaks out. . . . Man, don't
you know the fort will be burnt, the garrison gone, and you
dead (if you are lucky), in an hour's time unless you do your
job while you've a chancy ? . . ." ,

" 'Cri bon sang de ban jour de bon malheur de bon Dieu de
Dieu de sort" swore Lejaune, " and I'll deal with you after this
chien d'une revolte. But wait ! You wait, my clever little
friends. Hell's bells ! I'll teach you one of my little lessons.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 311

. . . If you don't ooth die en crapaudine, by God, you shall
live en crapaudine. . . ."

" Reward foi .saving your valuable life, I suppose," said
Michael. "*

" You'll do that as your simple duty, my little friend. Oh,
you love your duty. You are * decent soldiers wishing to do
your dMy 'properly and not babble about diamonds' I believe ?
. . . Good ! Come and do your duty then. We'll see what
you'll babble about afterwards, with your mouths full of salt
and sand, en crapaudine, eh ? Perhaps you'll prefer drops of
water to diamonds then, eh 1 ... You wait. . . ."

He turned to me.

" And you talked about hanging on walls. And being pinned
out in the sun, my little friend, eh ? Will you kindly wait
until I have you strapped up in a cell, of which I alone have
the key ? Perhaps it will not be I who 'jabbers about jewels '
fchen, eh ? ... You wait. . . ."

" Your turn to jabber now, anyhow, Lejaune," said I
wearily. " You're a fatiguing fellow. What about doing
something now, and less of this ' waiting ' business ? "

The man p idled himself together, exerted his undeniably
powerful will, and got the better of his immediate impulse.

" Come with me," he said quietly, and with a certain dignity.
" Our real conversation is postponed until I have dealt with
a few other unspeakables. We will then see what happens to
those that threaten officers and point rifles at them. . . . Put
that revolver down. ..."

" Open the door, John," said Michael. I lowered my rifle
and did so.

Maris, on guard outside, looked at me enquiringly. Pre-
sumably he had heard Lejaune's roars of rage.

Michael put the revolver on the table.

Lejaune took it up and strode to the open door.

" Follow me, you three," he said, and led the way to the
barrack-room, without hesitating to turn his back to us.

Apparentfy he had complete faith in our lojalty to duty,
and knew that he could depend upon us to obey any proper
military order. At the door of the barrack-room stood
St. Andre* and Cordier, faisant sentinelle.

313 BEAU GESTB

11 Any trouble ? " growled Lejaune, as they silently sprang
to attention.

" No one has moved, mon Adjudant" reptied St. Andre".

" Put down your rifles," said Lejaune to us three, " and
bring all arms out of this room, quickly and silently. You
other two will shoot any man who leaves his bed."

We set to work, emptying the arms-rack of* tile Lebel
rifles first, and then going from bed to bed and removing the
bayonet from its hook at the head of each.

A steel bayonet-scabbard struck a tin mug, and a man sat
up. It was Vogue\

" Cover him," said Lejaune, and the two rifles turned to-
ward the startled man. He looked in the direction of the voice.

" Lie down, man," I whispered. Vogue" fell back instantly
and closed his eyes.

It was remarkable with what speed slumber claimed him.

On my last journey to the door, with a double armful of
bayonets, the inevitable happened. One slipped and fell.
As it did so, I shot out my foot. The bayonet struck it and
made little noise, but my foot knocked against a cot and its
occupant sprang up, blinking.

" Himmel / What's that ? " he said.

It was Clock.

" Lie down, Clock," I whispered. " Look," and I nodded
my head toward the door.

" Shoot him if he moves," said Lejaune calmly.

Glock lay down again, staring at Lejaune, as a hypnotised
rabbit at a snake.

I passed on, and in another minute there was not a weapon
in the room, nor was there a sound. None slept so deeply as
Corporal Boldini, who was nearest to the door.

Lejaune took a key from his pocket. " Into the armoury
with them, St. Andr6, Cordier, and Mans, quick ! " he said.
" You, St. Andre\ mount guard. Send the key back to me
with Cordier and Maria, and shoot instantly any living soul
that approaches the place, other than one of these four men.

" Now then," he continued to Michael and me, as the
others crept off, laden with rifles, " some of these swine are
awake, so keep your eyes open. ... If several jump at once,

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 313

shoot Schwartz and Brandt. Then Haff and Delarey. If
only one man moves, leave him to me. . . ."

A very, very faint lightening of the darkness outside the
windows showed That the false dawn was breaking. As
I stored into the room, I found myself trying to recall a verse
about " Dawn's left hand " being in the sky and,
\

" Awake I for morning in the bowl of night

Has flung the stone that pitta the stars to flight $
And lo I the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's turrets in a noose of light"

I tried to put it into Arabic, and wondered how the original
sounded in the liquid Persian. . . . Was it " turrets " or
" terrace " ? . . .

What sort of a stone was Lejaune about to fling into the
bowl of night ? . . .

Would he order the five of us, ^hen the other three re-
turned, to open fire and begin a m n t jacre of sleeping men ?
an indiscriminate slaughter ? . . .

He was quite capable of it. These were mutineers who had
threatened his life, and, worse still, his sacred authority and
discipline.

Why should he wait, he would argue, for a court martial to
do it 1 Besides, if he waited, there would never be a court
martial. He could not permanently arrest the whole lot
with only five men, and guard his prisoners, garrison his fort,
carry on all the work of the place, and mount sentries, with
five men. What would happen when the five slept, ate,
cooked, mounted guard on the roof ? It couldn't be done.
It was their lives or his, and the very existence of the fort.

Perhaps he'd only shoot the ringleaders ?

What should I do if Lejaune ordered me to open fire on
unarmed men in their beds ? What would Michael do !

What was my duty in such a case, with orders from such
an officer ? Private conscience said, "Absolutely impossible 1
Sheer murder ! You are not an executioner. ^ . . Not the
public hangman."

Military conscience said, " Absolutely necessary. These
men are guilty of the greatest military crime. It is Lejaune's

314 BEAU GESTB

duty to save the fort at any cost. Your duty is to obey
your officer implicitly. If you refuse, you are a mutineer, as
criminal as they."

The windows grew lighter.

Maria and Cordier crept back, their work completed. Mauris
gave Lejaune the key of the armoury.

" St. Andre" is on guard over the magazine, won tidfudant"
whispered he, saluting.

"Good!" said Lejaune. " Maris, Brown, and Cordier,
remain here. Shoot instantly any man who puts his foot to
the ground. If there's a rush, shoot Schwartz first. Your
own lives depend on your smartness. They're all unarmed,
remember. . . . Come with me, you, Smith, and I'll disarm
the guard and sentries. . . . Use your wits if you want to
see daylight again."

He glared round the room.

" Aha, my little birds in a trap," he growled. " You'd plot
against me. Me, VAdjudant Lejaune , would you ? . . .
Ah! . . ."

I followed him down the passage.

" I'll clear that dog of a sentry off the roof first," he said.
" Then there'll be no shooting down on us when I disarm the
guard. . . ."

Leading the way, he went up the stairs that opened on to
the flat roof, round which ran a thick, low, crenellated wall,
embrasured for rifle-fire.

A sentry patrolled this roof at night, though the high look-
out platform was not occupied, for obvious reasons, during
the hours of darkness.

Lejaune relieved the sentry and posted me. He then took
the man's rifle from him and ordered him to go below to the
guard-room and request Sergeant Dupre" to come up to the
roof.

" Now," said he to me as the man went, " come here.
Look," and he pointed r down into the courtyard^ to the open
door of the guprd-room. " I shall order Sergeant )upr6 to take
the rifles of the guard and sentries, and then to send one man
out of the guard-house with the lot. If any man comes out
with only one rifle, shoot him at once. Shoot anybody who

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 816

comes through that doorway, except a man with half a dozen
rifles. And shoot to kill too."

I raised my rifle and covered the lighted doorway below
me, at the other\ide of the courtyard.

V You understand," growled Lejaune. " The moment
Sergeant Dupre enters that guard-room, after I've spoken to
him, y&i shoot anybody who carries one rifle. A man with
a rifle is a proclaimed and confessed mutineer. . . ."

I felt that he was right, and that it was my duty to obey
him, little as I relished the idea of shooting comrades like
bolting rabbits.

Should I shout, " Drop that rifle ! " before I fired, and
shoot if the man did not do it ? I wondered if Lejaune would
kill me if I did so.

I saw the relieved sentry cross the courtyard and enter the
guard-room, and a moment later Sergeant Dupr6 came out.

" Watch ! " growled Lejaune. " That sentry will talk, and
they may make a rush."

Nothing stirred below.

Sergeant Dupr6 came up the stairs, out on to the roof, and
saluted Lejaune.

" I want the rifles of the guard and sentries, Sergeant
Dupr6," said Lejaune. " Send one man, and only one, to me
here, with the lot. Shoot instantly any man who hesitates
for a second. No man is to leave the guard-room (except
the one who carries all the rifles), or he'll be shot as he does
so. . . ." And he pointed at me, standing with my rifle
resting in an embrasure and covering the doorway below.

Sergeant Dupr6 saluted and turned about with a quiet,
" Very good, mon Adjudant"

He descended the stairs and emerged into the courtyard,
crossed it to the gate beneath the gate-house, and took the
rifle from the sentry there. The man preceded him to the
guard-room. Duprl visited the other sentries, repeating the
procedure. t

A minute after the Sergeant's last visit to th& guard-room,
a man came out. I was greatly relieved to see that he carried
three or four rifles over each shoulder, the muzzles in his
hands.

816 BEAU GESTE

"Watch," growled Lejaune. "They may all rush out
together now. Open rapid fire if they do," and he himself
also covered the doorway with the rifle ho had taken from
the sentry.

The man with the rifles, one Gronau, a big stupid Alsatian,
came up the stairs. I did not look round, but kept my eyes
fixed on the doorway through which a yellow light (from
" where the great guard-lantern guttered ") struggled with
that of the dawn.

I heard a clattering crash behind me and then I did look
round, fully expecting to see that the man had felled Lejaune
from behind.

Gronau had released the muzzles of the rifles, they had
crashed down on the roof, and he was standing pointing,
staring, his silly eyes goggling and his silly mouth wide open.

So obviously was he stricken by some strange vision, that
Lejaune, instead of knocking him down, turned to look in the
direction of his pointing hand.

I did the same.

The oasis was swarming with Arabs , swiftly and silently
Advancing to attack I

Even as I looked, a huge horde of camel-riders swept out
to the left, another to the right, to make a detour and sur-
round the fort on all sides. There were hundreds and
hundreds of them already in sight, even in that poor light of
early dawn.

Lejaune showed his mettle instantly.

" Kun like Hell," he barked at Gronau. " Back with those
rifles," and sent him staggering with a push. " Send Sergeant
Dnpre* here, quick."

" Down to the barrack-room," he snapped at me. " Give
the alarm. Take this key to St. Andre* and issue the rifles.
Send me the bugler. Jump, or 1*11 . . , M

I jumped.

Even as I went, Lejaune's rifle opened rapid fire into the
advancing hordes.

Rushing down the stairs and along the passage, I threw
the key to St. Andre", who was standing like a graven image
t the door of the magazine.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP S17

" Ardbi I" I yelled. " Out with the rifles and ammuni-
tion ! "

Dashing on, I came to the door of the barrack-room.

Michael was pVinting his rifle at Boldini's head. Maria
was^ covering Schwartz, and Cordier was wavering the muzzle
of his rifle over the room generally. Everybody was awake,
and the^e was a kind of whispered babel, over which rose
Michael's clear and cheerful :

" Show a foot anybody who wants to die. . . ."

Nobody showed a foot, though all seemed to show resent-
ment, especially Boldini, with a loaded rifle a yard from hia
ear.

Taking this in at a glance, I halted, drew breath and then
bawled, " Aux armes ! Aux armes / Les Arbis ! Les Arbis t "
and, with a shout to Michael and the other two, of :

" Up with you we're surrounded" I turned to dash back,
conscious of a surge of unclad men from the beds, aa their
gaolers rushed after me. Whoops and yells of joy pursued UB,
and gleeful howls of :

'Aux armes I Les Arbis I " as the delighted men matched
at their clothes.

St. Andre* staggered towards us beneath a huge bundle of
rifles.

Dupre* and the guard were clattering up the stain.

As we rushed out on to the roof, Lejaune roared :

" Stand to 1 Stand to 1 Open fire at once ! Rapid fire !
Give them Hell, you devils ! Give them Hell ! " and, ordering
Dupre* to take command of the roof, he rushed below.

A couple of minutes later, a constant trickle of men flowed
up from below, men in shirt-sleeves, men bareheaded and
barefooted, men in nothing but their trousers but every
man with a full cartridge-pouch and his rifle and bayonet.

Lejaune must have worked like a fiend, for within a few
minutes of Gronau's dropping of the rifles, every man in the
fort was on the roof, and from every embrasure rifles poured
their magazine-fire upon the yelling, sVarming Arabs.

It had been a very near thing. A very close stave indeed.

But for Gronau's coming up and diverting attention from
the inside of the fort to the outside, there probably would

318 BEAU GESTE

not have been a man of the garrison alive in the place by now
except those of the wounded sufficiently alive to*be worth
keeping for torture.

One wild swift rush in the half-light, and 'they would have
been into the place to find what ? A disarmed garrison !

As I charged my magazine and fired, loaded and fired,
loaded and fired, I wondered if these things were " chance,"
and Gronau's arrival and idle glance round, at the last moment
that gave a chance of safety, pure accidental coincidence.

A near thing indeed and the issue yet in doubt, for it
was a surprise attack. They had got terribly close, the oasis
was in their hands, and there were many hundreds of them
to our little half-company.

And they wore brave. There was no denying that, as they
swarmed up to the walls under our well-directed rapid-fire,
an Arab falling almost as often as a legionary pulled the
trigger.

While hundreds, along each side, fired at our embrasures
at a few score yards' range, a large band attacked the gate
with stones, axes, heavy swords, and bundles of kindling-
wood to burn it down.

Here Lejaune, exposing himself fearlessly, led the defence,
controlling a rapid volley-fire that had terrible efiect, both
physical and moral, until the whole attack ceased as suddenly
as it had begun, and the Touaregs, as the sun rose, completely
vanished from sight, to turn the assault into a siege and to
pick us off, in safety, from behind the crests of the sand-hills.

I suppose this whirlwind dawn attack lasted no more than
ten minutes from the moment that the first shot was fired
by Lejaune, but it had seemed like hours to me.

I had shot at least a score of men, I thought. My rifle was
hot and sweating grease, and several bullets had struck the
deep embrasure in which I leaned to fire.

Below, the plain was dotted over with little heaps of white
or blue clothing, looking more like scattered bundles of
" washing " than dead ferocious men who, a mftmte before,
had thirsted and yelled for the blood of the infidel, and had
fearlessly charged to drink it.

Our bugler blew the " Cease fire/' and on the order, " Un-

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 319

load ! Stand easy," I looked round as I straightened myself
up, unloaded my rifle, and stood at ease.

It was a strange sight.

At every embrasure there was a caricature of a soldier
in fjpme cases almost naked at his feet a litter of spent
cartridges, and, in one or two instances, a pool of blood.
As I loo^d, one of these wild figures, wearing nothing but a
shirt and trousers, slowly sank to the ground, sat a moment
and then collapsed, his head striking with a heavy thud.
It was Blanc, the sailor.

Lejaune strode over from his place in the middle of the
roof.

" Here," he shouted. " No room nor time, yet, for shirkers/'
and putting his arms round the man, dragged him from the
ground and jerked him heavily into the embrasure.

There he posed the body, for Blanc appeared to be dead.
Into the embrasure it leaned, chest on the upward sloping
parapet, and elbows wedged against the outer edges of the
massive uprights of the crenellation.

Lejaune placed the rifle on the flat top of the embrasure,
a dead hand under it, a dead hand clasped round the small
of the butt, the heel-plate against the dead shoulder, a dead
cheek leaning against the butt.

" Continue to look useful, my friend, if you can't be useful,"
he jeered ; and as he turned away, he added :

" Perhaps you'll see that route to Morocco if you stare
hard enough."

" Now then, Corporal Boldini," he called, " take every
third man below, get them fed and properly dressed, and
double back here if you hear a shot, or the ' Assembly '
blown. If there's no attack, take below one-half of the rest.
. . . Then the remainder. . . . Have all Tdim-bim and
standing-to again in thirty minutes. . . . You, St. Andre",
and Maris, more ammunition. A hundred rounds per man.
. . . Cordier, pails of water. Fill all ^water-flasks and then
put filled pafls there above the gate. . . . They may try
another bonfire against it. ... Sergeant Dupre", no wounded
whatsoever will go below. Bring up the medical panniers.
. . , Are all prisoners out of the cells 1 " . > .

820 BEAU GESTB

He glared around, a competent, energetic, courageous
soldier. " And where's the excellent Schwartz ? " fte went on.
" Here, you dog, up on to that look-out platform and watch
those palm trees till the Arabs get you.f . . . Watch that
oasis, I say, . . . You'll have a little while up there lor the
thinking out of some more plots. . . ." And he laid his
hand on the butt of his revolver, as he scowled menacingly at
the big German.

Schwartz sprang up the ladder leading to the high look-out
platform that towered far above the roof of the fort. It was
the post of danger.

" Now use your eyes, all of you," bawled Lejaune, " and
ehoot as soon as you see anything to shoot at."

Ten minutes or so later, Boldini returned with the men
whom he had taken below, now all dressed as for morning
parade. They took their places and the Corporal hurried
round the roof, touching each alternate man on the shoulder.

11 Fall out, and go below," he ordered.

Ten minutes or so later they were back, fed, clothed, and
in their right minds. Gone like magic were all signs of cafard,
mutiny, and madness. These were eager, happy soldiers,
revelling in a light.

With the third batch I went, hoping to be back before
anything happened. Not a rifle-shot broke the stillness, as
we hastily swallowed soupe and coffee, and tore at our
bread.

11 Talk about ' They came to curse and remained to pray/ "
murmured Michael, with bulging cheeks. " These jolly old
Arab* removed our curse and remained for us to slay. There'll
be no more talk of mutiny for a while."

41 Nor of anything else, old bean," I replied, " if they
remain to prey."

u Never get in here," said Michael. " They couldn't take
this place without guns."

" Wonder what they're doing ? " I mused.

" Diggin' themselves in on the crests of tie sand-hills,"
said Michael. " They can't rush us, so they're going to do
some fancy shooting."

" Yes. What about a regular siege ? " I asked. " And

THE FOKT AT ZINDERNEUF 321

killing only one of us to a score of them that we kill ? We
should be ^foo few to man the four walls eventually."

" What about relief from Tokotu ? " suggested Michael.

" Over a hundrifl miles away ! " I replied, " and no wires.
Nor^ny chance to heliograph across a level desert, even if
they could see so far."

" Change for the medaille militaire" grinned Michael. " Go
to Lejaune and say, * Fear not ! Alone I will walkthrough the
encircling foe and bring you relief* Then you walk straight
through them, what ? "

11 Might be done at night," I mused.

" I don't think," said Michael. " These merry men will sit
round the place in a circle like a spiritualists' seance, holding
hands, rather than let anyone slip through them."

" Full moon too," I observed. " Anyhow, I'm very grateful
to the lads for rolling up. ..."

" Shame to shoot 'em," agreed Michael, and then Boldini
hounded us all back to the roof, and we resumed our stations.

All was ready, and the Arabs could come again as soon as
they liked.

Lejaune paced round and round the roof like a tiger ic a
cage.

" Hi you, there ! " he called up to Schwartz. " Can you
see nothing ? "

" Nothing moving, mon Adjudant" replied Schwartz.

A moment later he shouted something, and his voice was
drowned in the rattle and crash of a sudden outbreak of rifle
fire in a complete circle all round the fort. The Arabs had
lined the nearest sand-hills on all sides of us, and lying flat
below the crests, poured in a steady independent fire.

This was a very different thing from their first mad rush up
to the very walls, when they hoped to surprise a sleeping fort
and swarm up over the walls from each other's shoulders.

They were now difficult to see, and a man firing from his
embrasure was as much exposed as an Arab lying flat behind
a stone or in a trench scooped in the sa*nd.

There was a man opposite to me, about a hundred yards
distant, who merely appeared as a small black blob every
few minutes. He must have been lying on a slope or in a
11

322 BEAU GESTE

shallow sand trench, and he only showed his head for a few
seconds when he fired. I felt that either he or I^would get
hurt, sooner or later, for he, among others, was potting at my
embrasure.

It was certainly " fancy shooting " as Michael had ?aid,
waiting for the small object, a man's head, to appear for five
seconds at a hundred yards' range, and get a shot At it. It
was certainly interesting too, and more difficult than rifle-
range work, for one's nerves are not steadied nor one's aim
improved by the knowledge that one is also being shot at
oneself, and by several people.

With unpleasant frequency there was a sharp blow on the
wall near my embrasure and sometimes the high wailing song
of a ricochet, as the deflected and distorted bullet continued
its flight at an angle to the line of its arrival.

The morning wore on and the sun gained rapidly in
power.

Unreasonably and unreasoningly I did not expect to be hit,
and I was not hit, but I was increasingly conscious of the
terrific heat and of a severe headache. I wondered if high
nervous tension made one more susceptible, or whether the
day was really hotter than usual. . . .

Suddenly, the man on my right leapt back, shouted, spun
round and fell to the ground, his rifle clattering at my feet.

I turned and stooped over him. It was the wretched
Guantaio, shot through the middle of his face.

As I bent down, I was suddenly sent crashing against the
wall, as Lejaune literally sprang at me.

" By God ! " he roared. " You turn from your place again
and I'll blow your head off ! Duty, you dog ! Get to your
duty ! What have you to do with this carrion, you cursed,
slinking, cowering, hiding shirker ..." and as I turned back
into my embrasure, he picked up the choking, moaning
Guantaio and flung him into the place from where he had
fallen. 4

" Stay tl\ere, you rotten dog," he shouted, " and if you
slide out of it, I'll pin you up with bayonets through you,"
and he forced the dying wretch into the embrasure so that he
edged in position, with his head and shoulders showing

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 323

through the aperture between the crenellations on either side
of him.

" I'll have no skulking malingerers here," he roared. " You'll
all stay in those $mbrasures alive or dead, while there's an
Arab in sight. . . ."

Suddenly the Arab fire dwindled and slackened and then
ceased, ^father they had had enough of our heavy and
accurate fire, or else some new tactics were going to be intro-
duced. I imagined that a camel-man had ridden all round
the sand-hills, out of sight, calling the leaders to colloquy
with the Emir in command.

Our bugles sounded the " Cease fire."

" Stand easy ! . . . Wounded lie down where they are,"
rang out Lejaune's voice, and some half-dozen men sank to
the ground in their own blood. I was thankful to see that
Michael was not among them.

Sergeant Dupre with Cordier, who had been a doctor, went
to each in turn, with bandages and stimulants.

" Corporal Boklini," barked Lejaune, " take the men down
in three batches. Ten minutes for soupe and a half -litre of
wine each. Come back at the * pas gymnastique ' if you hear
the * Assembly ' blown. . . . St. Andre, replenish ammuni-
tion. Each man to have a hundred. . . . Stop that bandaging,
Cordier, and stir yourself. . . ."

When my turn came, later, to go below, I was more thankful
for the comparative darkness and coolness of the caserne than
for the soupe and wine even, for my head was splitting.

" * Moriturus te saluto,' " said Cordier, as he raised his mug
of wine.

" Don't talk rot," said I. " You're no more moriturus than
Madame la Republique."

" I shall be dead before sunset," replied Cordier. " This
place will be a silent grave shortly . . . ' Madame la Republique
ttiorituri te salutant / . . ." and he drank again.

" He's fey," said Michael. " Anyhow, better to die fighting
than to be done in by Lejaune afterwards. ... If I go, I'd like
to take that gentle adjudant with me. ..."

" He's a topping soldier," I said.

" Great," agreed Michael. " Let's forgive him."

324 BEAU GESTB

" We will, if he dies," said I. " I am afraid that he'll see to
it that he needs some forgiving, if he and we survivV this show,
and he gets control again. ..."

" Yes," said Michael. " Do you know,, I believe he's torn
both ways when a man's hit. The brute in him says, ' Trial's
one for you, you damned mutineer,' and the soldier in him says,
' One more of a tiny garrison gone.' " ^

" He's a foul brute," I agreed. " He absolutely flung two
wounded, suffering men back into their embrasures and
enjoyed doing it."

" Partly enjoyment and partly tactics," said Michael
wiping his lips, and lighting a cigarette. " He's going to give
the Arabs the idea that not a man has been killed. Or else
that ho has so many men in the fort that another takes the
place of each one that falls. . . . The Touaregs have no field-
glasses, and to them a man in an embrasure is a man. . . ."

" What about when there are too few to keep up any
volume of fire ? " I asked.

" He may hope for relief before then," hazarded Michael.

" He does," put in St. Andre, who had just joined us and
taken a seat at the table. " Dupre told me so. The wily
beggar has kept the two goums outside every night lately
presumably ever since he knew of the conspiracy. They had
orders to go, hell for leather, to Tokotu, and say the fort wag
attacked, the moment they heard a rifle fired, inside or out"

" By Jove ! " I exclaimed. " Of course ! He wouldn't
send to Tokotu to ask for help in quelling a mutiny of liis own
men, before it happened but he wouldn't mind a column
arriving because a goum had erroneously reported an attack
on the fort."

" Cunning lad ! " agreed Michael. " And he knew that
when the conspiracy was about to bloom and he nipped it in
the bud, he'd be pretty shorthanded after it, if he should be
attacked even by a small raiding party out for a lark ! "

" Yes," said Cordier. " He saved his face and he saved the
fort too. If a shot had* been fired at the mutineers, the goums
would have scuttled off as ordered, and the relief-column from
Tokotu would have found an heroic Lejaune cowing and
guarding a gang of mutineers. , . . As it is, they'll know

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 325

to-morrow^ morning, at Tokotu, that the place is invested,
and they'll be here the next day."

" Question is where shall we be by then ? " I observed.

" In Hell, dear friends," smiled Cordier.

"Suppose the goums were chopped in the oasis ? " said
Michael. " Taken by surprise, as we were."

" Wha\I said to Dupre ! " replied Cordier. " But Lejaune
was too old a bird. They camped in the oasis by day, but
were ordered to be out at night, and patrol separately, one
north to south on the east and the other on the west, a half-
circle each, from sunset to sunrise, Dupre says . . . Likely
they'd have been chopped in the oasis in the daytime all
right, sound asleep but they wouldn't be caught at dawn.
They were well outside the enveloping movement from the
oasis when the Arabs surrounded the place, and the goums
would be off to Tokotu at the first shot or sooner. ... By
the time ..."

" Up with you," shouted Boldini, and we hurried back to
the roof and resumed our stations. The wounded were again
in their places, one or two lying very still in them, others able
to stand.

On either side of me, a dead man stood wedged into his
embrasure, his rifle projecting before him, his elbows and
the slope of the parapet keeping lu'm in position.

I could see no sign of life from my side of the fort. Nothing
but sand and stones over which danced the blinding aching
heat-haze.

Suddenly there was a cry from Schwartz on the look-out
platform.

" The palms," he shouted and pointed. " They're climbing
them." He raised his rifle and fired.

Those were his last words. A volley rang out a minute
later, and he fell.

Bullets were striking the wall against which I stood, upon
its inner face. Arab marksmen had climbed to the tops of
the palms of* the oasis, and were firing down ujon the roof.
From all the sand-hills round, the circle of fire broke out again.

" Rapid fire at the palms," shouted Lejaune. " Sergeant
Dupr6, take half the men from the other three sides to that

326 BEAU GESTB

one. Bring those birds down from their trees quickly. . . .
Brandt, up with you on to the look-out platform. 4uick. . . ."

I glanced round as I charged my magazine afresh. Brandt
looked at the platform and then at Lejaunp. Lejaune's hand
went to the revolver in the holster at his belt, and Brandt
climbed the ladder, and started firing as quickly as he could
work the bolt of his rifle. ^

Michael was still on his feet, but, as I turned back, I saw his
neighbour spin round and crash down, clutching with both
streaming hands at his throat.

When I took another swift glance later, the man had been
wedged into the embrasure and posed by Lejaune as a living
defender of the fort.

Soon afterwards I heard a shout from above, and turning,
saw Brandt stagger backwards on the high platform. He
struck the railing, toppled over, and came with a horrible
crash to the roof.

" Find a good place for that carrion, Sergeant Dupr6, "shouted
Lejaune. " Make him ornamental if he can't be useful."

I then heard him call the name of Haff.

" Up you go, Haff," he shouted. " You're another of these
brave risque touts. Up you go ! "

Schwartz, Brandt, Haff ! Doubtless the next would be
Delarey and Vogu6. . . . And then Colonna, Gotto, and Bolidar.
. . . Guantaio was dead. . . . Why didn't he send Michael up
there ? Presumably he hoped to keep him, St. Andre, Cordier,
Maris, and mo alive until the mutineer ringleaders and the
diamond-stealers were dead. ... He wouldn't want to be left
victorious over the Arabs, only to find himself defenceless in
the hands of the mutineers and the thieves.

I glanced up at Hafi and saw that he was lying behind
Schwartz's body, and firing over it as though it were a parapet
along the edge of the platform.

I wondered how long this second phase of the fight had
lasted, and whether we could hold out till night fell and the
Arabs could not see to shoot. . . . Would they shoot by moon-
light ? It was unlikely, the Arab being, as a rule, averse from
any sort of night work except peaceful travelling. A dawn
rush is his favourite manoeuvre. . . .

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 327

It was agony to fire my rifle, for my head ached with one
of those |errible eye-strain heat-stroke pains that give the
feeling that the head is opening and shutting, exposing the
brain. Every explosion of my rifle was like a blow on the
he^i with a heavy hammer. I had almost come to the end of
my tether when once again the fire of the Arabs slackened
and dwindled and died away.

On the* " Cease fire " bugle being ordered by Lejaune, I
straightened up. I looked round as the words, " Unload !
Stand easy ! " rang out.

Michael was all right, but a good half of the garrison was
dead or dying, for quite half the men remained partly standing,
partly lying, wedged into their embrasures as the others
obeyed the orders shouted by Lejaune.

Among the dead were both Sergeant Dupr6 and Corporal
Boldini, and both had been stuck up to simulate living men.
HafE must be dead too, for Delarey had been sent up to
the platform, and was lying flat behind a little pile of bodies.

St. Andre" was alive, for Lejaune called out :

" St. Andre*, take rank as Corporal. One half the men to go
below for soupe and coffee. Double back quick if you hear the
* Assembly ' blown ..." arid St. Andre passed round the
roof, touching each alternate man of those who were standing
up, and saying, " Fall out, and go below."

In many embrasures was a man whom he did not touch.

Poor Cordier had spoken truly as concerned his own fate,
for he remained at his post, staring out with dead eyes across
the desert.

Maris was dead too. There were left three men St. Andre,
Michael, and myself, upon whom Lejaune could rely if the
Arabs now drew off and abandoned the siege of the fort.

But this, the Arabs did not do.

Leaving a circle of what were presumably their best marks-
men, to pick off any of the defenders of the fort who showed
themselves, the bulk of them retired out of sight behind the
oasis and saAd-hills beyond it. f

By Lejaune's orders, the embrasures were occupied only by
the dead, the living being ordered below in small parties, foi
rest and food.

328 BEAU GESTE

St. Andre* was told to see that every man left his bed and
yaquetage as tidy as for inspection, and that the rtyom was in
perfect order. Lejaune himself never left the roof, but had
soupe, coffee, and wine brought up to him. f

To the look-out platform he sent Vogue* to join the bo/lies
of his fellow-conspirators, Schwartz, Haft, and Delarey.

Except for a crouching sentry in the middle of each wall of
the roof, those who were not below, feeding and resting, sat
with their backs to the wall, each beside his embrasure.

The fire of the Arab sharpshooters did no harm, and they
war-ted their ammunition on dead men.

And so the evening came and wore away and the moon rose.

Where we were, we lay, with permission to sleep, St. Andre
having the duty of seeing that two sentries patrolled each wall
and were changed every two hours.

By Lejaune's orders, Vogue, in the dusk before moonrise,
pushed the bodies of Schwartz, HafE, and Delarey from the
look-out platform to fall down to the roof. They were then
posed in embrasures, as though living defenders of the fort.
It seemed to give Lejaune special pleasure to thrust his half-
smoked cigarette between Schwartz's teeth, and pull the dead
man's kepi rakishly to one side.

" There, my fine conspirator," said he when the body
was arranged to his liking. " Stand there and do your duty
satisfactorily for the first time in your life, now you're dead.
Much more useful now than ever you were before."

"He's a devil! He's a devil! He's mad mad! . . ."
groaned Vogu6 as he dragged the body of Delarey past me.

" Up with him ! Put him over there," growled Lejaune,
when Vogue* had got the body in his arms. "I'll allot your
corpse the place next to his, and your pipe shall be stuck
between your teeth. You are fond of a pipe, friend Vogue* !
Helps you to think out plots, eh ? ... Up with him, you
dog ..." and he kept his hand on the butt of his revolver
as he baited the man. He then sent him back to the look-out
platform, to be a target 4 for the Touaregs when the moon rose,
or the sun, il he lived to see it. ...

I had a talk with Michael when our turn came to go below
for a rest and food.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUP 329

a thin time to-morrow," said Michael. " If
they pot 4 few of us and then rush, they should get in. n

" Yes," I agreed. " They ought to keep up a heavy fire
while their ammu/iition lasts, and then charge on camels in
one* fell swoop. And then climb up from the backs of the
camels. A lot would be killed but a bigger lot would get in. 1 '

" Don'^ give them the tip, anyhow," grinned Michael.
" Two or three hundred of the devils inside the place, and it
would be a short life and a merry for the half-dozen or so of us
who were left by that time. . . ."

"If we can stand them off to-morrow, the relief from
Tokotu ought to roll up the next morning," I said.

" If either of those gowns got away and played the game,"
agreed Michael. " They may have been pinched though. . . .
The relief will find a thin house here, if they do come. . . . It'll
mean a commission for Lejaune all right."

" Nice if he's confirmed in command here, and we survive ! "
I remarked.

" Yes," said Michael, " and talking of which, look here, old
son. If I take the knock and you don't, I want you to do
something for me. . . . Something most important . . .
what ? "

" You can rely on me, Beau," I said.

" I know I can, John," he replied. " There's some letters,
A funny public sort of letter, a letter for Claudia, and one for
you, and one for Digby, in my belt and there's a letter and
a tiny packet for Aunt Patricia. If you possibly can, old chap,
get that letter and packet to Aunt. No hurry about it but get
it to her. See ? Especially the letter. The packet doesn't
much matter, and it contains nothing of any value, but I'd
die a lot more comfortable if I knew that Aunt Patricia was
going to get that letter after my death. . . ."

" Oh, shut it, Beau," I said roughly. " Your number's not
up yet. Don't talk rot."

" I'm only asking you to do something if I'm. pipped," said
Michael.

"And, of course, I'll do it if I'm alive," I* replied. . . .
" But suppose we're both killed ? "

" Well the things are addressed and stamped, and it's
11*

330 BEAU GESTE

usual to forward such letters and packets founcf on dead
soldiers, as you know. Depends on what happerte. ... If
we die and Lejaune survives, I doubt their being dispatched.
Or rather, I don't doubt at all. ... Or if , the Arabs get in,
there's not much chance of anything surviving. . . . Bub if
we're both killed and the relief gets in here before the Arabs
do, the officer in charge would do the usual thing. ^. . Any-
how, we can only hope for the best. . . .

" Anything I can do for you if it's the other way round,
John ? " he added.

" Well, love to Dig, you know, and there's a letter for
Isobcl, and you might write to her if ever you get back to
civilisation and say we babbled of her, and sang, * Just before
the battle, Mother,' and ' Bring a Jlowcr from Maggie's grave, 9
and all that. . . ."

Michael grinned.

" I'll say the right things about you to Isobel, old son," he
said, " and if otherwise, you'll see that Aunt gets my letter,
eh ? Be sure I'm dead though. ... I mean if I were captured
alive by Arabs, or anything humorous like that, I don't want
her to get it while I'm alive. ... Of course, all five of the
letters are important, but I do want Aunt to get hers. . . "

And then St. Andre ordered our little party up to the roof,
and brought down the other one.

The Arabs had ceased their desultory fixing, and might have
been a hundred miles away. Only the sight of a little smoke
from their camp-fires and the occasional scent of the burning
camel-dung and wood betrayed their presence, for none were
in sight, and they made no sound. No one doubted, however,
that a very complete chain of watchful sentries ringed us
round, and made it utterly impossible for anyone to leave the
fort and bring help to his besieged comrades.

The fact that Lejaune sent no one to make the attempt
seemed to confirm the story that DuprS had told Cordier aa
they bandaged the wounded, and to show that ^ Lejaune be-
lieved that the goums had got away.

It would be a wellnigh hopeless enterprise, but there was
just a chance in a thousand that a daring and skilful scout
might be able to crawl to where their camels were, and get

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 331

away on qine. Nor was Lejaune the man to take any count of
the fact t^iat it was almost certain torture and death for the
man who attempted it.

I decided that, on the one hand, he felt pretty sure the
gowns had got away to Tokotu directly the Arabs appeared,
and that, on the other hand, the two or three men whom he
could tri^st were just the men whom he could not spare.

Unless St. Andre, Michael, and I were with him, his fate
would be the same whether he drove the Arabs off or not, and
doubtless he would rather go down fighting Arabs, than be
murdered by his own men.

I was ordered on duty as sentry, and, for two hours, patrolled
my side of the roof with my eyes on the moonlit desert, where
nothing moved and whence no sound came.

When relieved, I had a little chat with St. Andr6 after he
had posted my relief.

" Dawn will be the dangerous time ; they'll rush us then,*'
lie said, " and it will want quick shooting to keep them down
if they come all together and on all four sides at once. They
must be a hundred to one. ... I wonder if they'll bring ropes
and poles, or ride their camels right up to the walls. . . ."

" If they don't count the cost, I don't see how we can keep
them out," I said.

" Nothing could keep them out," replied St. Andr6. " But
if they fail at dawn they won't try again until the next dawn.
They'll just pepper us all day and tire us out. . . . They
think they have all the time they want."

" Haven't they ? " I asked.

" No," replied St. Andre". " Lejaune is certain that one of
the gowns got away. The Arabs couldn't get them both, ho
says, as they were at opposite sides of the fort, and half a mile
apart always, at night."

" What about their ammunition ? " I asked. " The
Touaregs', I mean."

" The more they spend the more Determined they'll be to
get ours, and the more likely to put their mo^ey on a swift
dawn-rush with cold steel. . . ."

I lay down and fell asleep, to be awakened by the bugle and
Lejaune J e shout of " Stand to ! "

332 BEAU GESTE

There was no sign of dawn and none of the Arabq.

From the centre of the roof, Lejaune addressed the
diminished garrison of Fort Zinderneuf.

" Now, my merry birds, 5 ' said he, " you're going to sing,
and sing like the happy joyous larks you are. We'll let #ur
Arab friends know that we're not only awake, but also merry
and bright. Now then the Marching Song of the Lepion first.
All together, you warbling water-rats Now." And led by
his powerful bellow, we sang at the tops of our voices.

Through the Legion's extensive repertoire he took us, and
between songs the bugler blew every call that he knew.

" Now laugh, you merry, happy, jolly, care-free, humorous
swine. Laugh. . . . You, Vogue, up there roar with laughter,
or I'll make you roar with pain, by God. . . . Out with it.
Now. . . ."

A wretched laugh, like that of a hungry hyena, came down
from the look-out platform.

It was so mirthless a miserable cackle, and so ludicrous, that
we laughed genuinely.

" Again, you grinning dog," roared Lejaune. " Laugh till
your sides ache, you gibbering jackal. Laugh till the tears run
down your horrible face, you shivering she- ass. Laugh ! . . .
Now. . . ."

Again the hideous quavering travesty of a laugh rang out,
and the men below roared heartily at the ridiculous noise.

" Now then, you twittering sniggering so'^e-snatchers,
laugh in turn," shouted Lejaune. " From the right you
start, Gotto."

Gotto put up a pretty good roar.

" Now beat that, next. Out with it, or, by God, I'll give you
something to laugh at," Lejaune continued.

And so round that circle of doomed men, among the dead
men, ran the crazy laughter, the doomed howling noisily, the
dead smiling secretly out to the illuminated silent desert.

" Now all together with me," roared Lejaune, and great
guffaws rang out, desecrating the silence and the beauty of the
moonlit scene'.

It was the maddest, most incredible business that horrible
laughter among the dead, from men about to die.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 333

Certainly the Arabs must have thought us mad and cer-
tainly ih*y were not far wrong. Anyhow, they knew we were
awake and must have gathered that we were cheerful and
defiant.

For Lejaune was justified of his madness, and no dawn
attack came.

Whether the Touaregs regarded us as " The afflicted of
Allah," and feared to rush the place, or whether they realised
that there could be no element of surprise in the attack, 1 do
not know, but it was never made.

And when the sun rose and they again lined the sand-hills
and opened their heavy fire upon the fort, every embrasure
was occupied by an apparently unki liable man, and every
Arab who exposed himself paid the penalty.

But not all those who lined the walls of Zinderneuf were
beyond scathe by Arab bullets. Now and then there would be
a cry, an oath, a gurgling grunt or cough, and a man would
stagger back and fall, or die where he crouched, a bullet
through his brain.

And, in every case, Lejaune would prop and pose and
arrange the body, dead or dying, in the embrasure whence
it had fallen, and to the distant Arab eyes it must have seemed
that the number of the defenders was undiminished.

As the morning wore on, Lejaune took a rifle, and, crouch-
ing beside each dead man in turn, fired several shots from
each embrasure, adding to the illusion that the dead were
alive, as well as to the volume of fire.

Later still, he set one man to each wall to do the same thing,
to pass continually up and down, firing from behind the dead.

When the Arab fire again slackened and then ceased, toward
midday, and our bugle blew the " Cease fire" I hardly dared
to turn round.

With a sigh of relief, I saw Michael among the few who rose
from their embrasures at the order " Stand easy"

It was a terribly tiny band. Of ^11 those who had sprung
from their 'beds with cries of joy, at the shput of " Aux
armes ! " yesterday morning, only Lejaune, St. Andre",
Michael, Colonna, Marigny, Vogue, Moscowski, Gotto, Vaer-
rcn, and I were still alive.

334 BEAU GESTE

The end was inevitable, unless relief came frora Tokotu
before the Arabs assaulted the place. All they had ^o do now,
was to run in and climb. Ten men cannot hold back a thou-
sand.

If we survived to see the arrival of a relieving force, it wo^ild
be the dead who saved us, these dead who gave the impression
of a numerous, fearless, ever-watchful garrison, wjio would
cause an attack across open ground to wither beneath the
blast of their rifles like grass beneath a flame.

" Half the men below, for soupe and coffee and half a litre
of wine, Corporal St. Andre," ordered Lejaune. " Back as
soon as you can or if the * Assembly ' is blown . : ." and
St. Andre took each alternate man.

Soon coffee and soupe were ready, although the cook was
dead, and we sat at table as though in a dream, surrounded
by the tidy beds of dead men.

" Last lap ! " said Michael, as I gave him a cigarette.
" Last cigarette ! Last bowl of soupe ! Last mug of coffee !
Last swig of wine ! Well, well ! It's as good an end as any
if a bit early. . . . Look out for the letter, Johnny," and ho
patted the front of his sash.

" Oh, come off it," I growled. " Last nothing. The relief
is half-way here by now."

" Hope so," replied Michael. " But I don't greatly care,
old son. So long as you see about the letter for me."

" Why 7, rather than you, Beau ? " I asked. " Just as
likely that you do my posting for me."

" Don't know, Johnny. Just feel it in my bones," he
replied. " I feel I'm in for it and you're not, and thank the
Lord for the latter, old chap," and he gave my arm a little
squeeze above the elbow. (His little grip of my arm, and
squeeze, had been one of my greatest rewards and pleasures, all
my life.)

As we returned to tho roof at the end of our meal, Michael
held out his hand to me.

" Well, good-bye, dear old Johnny," he said. '" I wish to
God I hadn't dragged you into this but I think you'll come
out all right. Give my love to Dig."

I wrung his hand.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF S35

" Goodtbye, Beau," I replied. " Or rather, au 'voir. . . .
Of coursa, you didn't ' drag ' me into this. I had as much
right to assume the blame for the theft of the ' Blue Water '
as you and Dig had. . . . And it's been a great lark. . . ."

He patted my shoulder as we clattered up the stairs.

Lejaune assigned one side of the roof to Michael and the
opposite one to me. Vogue and Vaerren respectively were sent
to the otlier two. Our orders were to patrol the wall and shoot
from behind a dead man, if we saw an Arab.

St. Andre took Colonna, Marigny, Moscowski, and Gotto
below.

Lejaune himself went up to the look-out platform with his
field-glasses and swept the horizon in the direction of Tokotu.
Apparently he saw no sign of help.

Nothing moved on the sand-hills on my side of the fort,
and I watched them over the heads of my dead comrades. . . .

How much longer could this last ?

Would the Touaregs draw off from this fort-with-an-
inexhaustible-garrison ?

Would the relief come in time ? If not, would they be in
time to avenge us ? It would be amusing if the Arabs, having
got into the fort, were caught in it by the Senegalese and
mounted troops from Tokotu a poetic justice for not a man
of them would escape !

Where did all the flies come from ? . . . Horrible ! . , .

St. Aaidr6 and his party returned to the roof, and now two
men were posted to each wall, St. Andr6 and Lejaune remain-
ing in the centre of the roof to support whichever side of the
fort should need it most when the attack came.

When it did come, it was a repetition of the siege-tactics and
attrition warfare, a desultory fire of sharpshooters, and most
of it aimed at the dead.

Up and down his half of the wall, each of the defenders
hurried, firing from a different embrasure each time.

The Arabs must have been completely deceived, for they
came no ne'arer, and fired impartially at the silent corpse-
guarded embrasures and at those from which 6ur eight rifles
cracked.

Glancing round, as I darted from one embrasure to another,

336 BEAU GESTB

I saw that both Lejaune and St. Andre* were in the ring-line
now, and that Lejaune had one wall of the fort to himself.
There were only seven of us left. Michael was among them.

The Arab fire died down.

Lejaune himself picked up the bugle and sounded the
" Cease fire." I saw that Vogue, Moscowski, and Marigny
were dead and propped up in their places. St. Andre was
dabbing his face with a rag, where a bullet had torn his cheek
and ear.

Colonna, Gotto, and I were sent below to get food, and we
spoke not a single word. When we returned, Michael, Vaerren,
and St. Andre went down in their turn.

Lejaune walked up and down the roof, humming " C'est la
reine Pomare" to all appearance cool and unconcerned.

Not an Arab was to be seen, and not a shot was fired.

I wondered whether they withdrew for meals or for prayers
or whether they fired so many rounds per man from their
trenches on the sand-hills, and then awaited their reliefs from
the oasis.

Certainly it was a leisurely little war on their side ; and no
doubt they were well advised to conduct it so. They must have
lost terribly in their first attack, and they had learnt wisdom.

A shot rang out.

" Stand to ! " shouted Lejaune, and blew the " Assembly "
two or three times, as though calling up reserves from below
to the already well-manned walls.

That fort and its garrison must have been a sore puzzle to
the gentle Touareg.

The firing recommenced and grew hotter, and an ominous
change took place in the Arab tactics.

While a heavy fire was maintained from the crests of the
sand-hills, men crawled forward en tirailleur and scratched
shallow holes in the sand, behind stones. . . . Nearer and
nearer they came. . . . They were going to assault again.

I rushed from embrasure to embrasure, up and down my
side of the roof, pausing only just long enough to bring my
fore-sight on to an Arab. Time after time I saw that I hit one
of the running or crouching crawling figures drawing ever
closer to the wall.

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 337

Lejaune was like a man possessed, loading and firing, dash-
ing from place to place, and rushing from one side of the fort
to the other, to empty the magazine of his rifle. . . .

Why from one ^ide to the other ? ... As I loaded and
fired, emptied and recharged my magazine, I found myself
asking this question.

Glancing round, I saw the reason. There was no one
defending the two walls that ran to left and right of mine.

Lejaune was firing a burst from one, and then dashing
across to the other defending two walls at once.

Only one man was defending the wall behind me. Swiftly
I looked across.

/( was not Michael. . . .

Only Lejaune, St. Andre", and I were on our feet.

This was the end. . . .

Michael was gone but I should follow him in a minute.

Cramming another clip of cartridges into my hot rifle, I
looked across again.

The opposite wall was now undefended.

Rushing across the roof from left to right, Lejaune shouted :

'* Both walls, damn you ! To and fro, curse you ! Shoot like
hell, blast you 1 " and I dashed across and emptied my maga-
zine from that side, a shot from a different embrasure each time.

Back again I ran, and got off a burst of fire along the
opposite wall.

And so Lejaune and I (Lejaune and 1 /) held Fort Zinderneuf
for a while, two against a thousand.

And when I was nearly spent, panting like a hunted fox,
dripping with sweat, and nearly blind with eye-strain and
headache, the Arab fire again dwindled and died, and there
was perfect silence an incredible dreadful silence, after those
hours of deafening racket.

" Go below, you, quick ! " shouted Lejaune, pointing to
the stairs. " Boil coffee and soupe, and bring them here.
Double back, quick, the moment a shot is fired. They may be
at us again in a few minutes. ... If we keep them off till
dark, we're saved. . . ."

" Hurry, you swine," he roared, aa I stood staring at where
Michael lay on his face in a pool of blood.

338 BEAU GESTE

I dragged myself to the stairs as Lejaune cursedime.

As I went down them I heard him merrily blowing the
" Ceasefire" and bawling fierce orders to imaginary'defenders
of the fort.

I stumbled to the cook-house.

" Keep them off till dark and we 1 re saved" did he say ?

I hadn't the very faintest desire to be saved. Why should I
be saved when Michael lay there so still ?

As I struck a match to light the oil-stove, I thought I heard
a shot. Rushing back up the stairs, I saw that Lejaune was
posing a corpse in an embrasure. One body still lay where it
had fallen.

It was Michael's.

I must have been mistaken as to hearing the sound of a
shot. At any rate all was silent now, and Lejaune, his back
to me, was fitting the dead man's rifle to his shoulder and
clasping the dead left hand round the barrel.

I turned and crept back to my duties as cook, placed twigs
and wood beneath the sowjoe-kettle, and turned up the wick
of the oil-stove. . . .

And as I watched the fire burn up, I imagined Lejaune
posing Michael's body perhaps long before life was out ol
it. ... The thought was unbearable.

He might be in agony.

He might be so wounded that his life could be saved if he
lay flat. Not all the killed had been killed outright though
many of them had died immediately, as only their heads were
exposed and their wounds were in the brain or throat.

There was really no more reason why Michael should be
spared than any of the others should be but he was my
dearly-loved brother, and I simply could riot bear it. I could
not have his poor wounded body flung about like a sack of
potatoes, and stuck up by the jeering Lejaune with in-
dignities and insults.

He might not yet be dead, and his life might depend OB
what I did now ! I turifed to run upstairs. '

Was I then* going to mutiny after all ? Was I going to
defy my superior officer and tell him what he should, and
what he should not, do in the fort that he commanded ?

THE FORT AT ZINDEENEUF 339

Was I goifcg to tell him that Michael was of superior clay and
not to be Created as all the others had been treated ?

I was.

And as I ran up the stairs, another thought struck me.

Michael's last request and instructions ! I must get those
letters and the little packet that he had spoken about. I must
say to Lejaune :

" I'll fight till I drop, and I'll obey you implicitly but leave
my brother's body alone leave it to me. ..."

After all, things were a little different now.

Lejaune and I were the only survivors. We had passed
through 'Hell unscathed, and, at the last, two against a
thousand, had kept the Flag flying.

Surely ho could bo decent now, unbend a little, and behave
as a man and a comrade. . . .

As I came out on to the roof, Lejaune was bending over
Michael.

He had unfastened my brother's tunic, torn the lining out
of his kepi, removed his sash, and opened the flat pouch that
formed part of the money-belt that Michael wore.

Lying beside Lejaune, were three or four letters, and a torn
envelope. In his hands were a tiny packet, bound up in string
and sealing-wax, and an opened letter.

I sprang toward him, seeing red, my whole soul ablaze
with indignant rage that this foul vulturous thief should
rob the dead, rob a soldier who had fought beside him thus
a brave man who had probably saved his life, before the fight
began.

" So he ' had no diamond, 9 had he ? Didn't know what I
meant, didn't he ? " the ruffian jeered, holding up the packet
and the letter in his left hand.

" You damned thief ! You foul pariah-dog ! " I shouted,
and, in a second, his revolver was at my face.

" Stand back, you swine," he growled. " Back further.
Back, I say. ..." t

One movement, and I should be dead.

And a good thing too, but I had a word or two to say first.
As I stepped back, he lowered the revolver and smiled
horribly. . . .

340 BEAU GESTE

" I didn't know that men crept round robbing the dead,
after a fight, Lejaune," I said. " I thought that was left to
Arab women of the vilest sort. . . . You dirty thieving
cur you should be picking over dust -bins in the Paris gutters,
not defiling an honourable uniform chiffonnier f . . ."

Lejaune bared his teeth and laughed unpleasantly.

" A fine funeral oration from a jewel-thief I '* ^e snarled.
" Any more grand sentiments before I blow out what brains
you have ? No ? Well, I think I promised you that I would
attend to you, all in good time. Now I'm going to do it. ...
I am going to shoot you now, where you stand. Half a dozen
through the stomach, shall we say ? I don't want to hurry
you unduly out of this pleasant world. ... Oh no, don't
think I want you any longer. The Arabs won't attack again
to-day, and they've settled all my mutineers nicely for me.
. . . And a relief -column will arrive at dawn. . . . Then
you and the rest of these cursed dogs will be given a hole in
the sand for the lot of you and I shall get the Cross of the
Legion of Honour, a Captain's commission, and a trip to
Paris to receive thanks and decoration. . . . And at Paris,
my chatty little friend, I shall dispose of this trifle that your
gang so kindly brought to the Legion for me 1 " and he again
held up the little packet in his left hand.

" A rich mau, thanks to you and to this . . ." and as he
said the last word, he actually kicked Michael's body !

Even as I snatched at my sword-bayonet, and leapt forward
in the instant that my dazed and weary mind took in the
incredible fact of this brutal kick it also took in another
fact even more incredible Michael's eyes were open, and
turned to me.

Michael was alive ! ... I would live too, if possible. . . j
My hand, still grasping my bayonet, fell to my side.

" Good ! " said Lejaune. " Armed attack on a superior
officer and in the face of the enemy I ... Excellent !
I court martial you myself. I find you guilty and I sentence
you to death. % . . . I also carry out the sentence myself. . . .
Thus . . ." and the revolver travelled slowly from my face
to the pit of my stomach.

" There / . . ."

THE FORT AT ZINDERNEUF 341

As Lejatme had spoken, Michael's right hand had moved.
Afl the last word was uttered, the hand seized Lejaune 's foot,
jerking him from his balance, as he pulled the trigger in the
act of looking dow,n and of stumbling.

Blinded, deafened, and dazed, I leapt and lunged with all
my strength and drove my bayonet through Lejaune. I
stumbled, and it was torn from my hand. When I could see
again (for *I must have ducked straight at the revolver as he
fired it, or else he must have raised it as his foot was pulled
from under him), he was lying on his back, twitching, the
handle of the bayonet protruding from his chest, the blade
through his heart.

Lejaune was dead, and 1 was the mutineer and murderei
after all I / was the " butcher " and Lejaune the " pig.' 1

CHAPTER VI
A " VIKING'S FUNERAL "

** All night long, in a dream untroubled of hope,
lie brooded, clasping his knees."

I STOOPED over Michael, whose eyes were closed agaia.
Was he dead his last act the saving of my life ?

I don't think I felt very much, at the moment. My mind
was numb or blank, and I wasn't certain that the whole affair
was not a nightmare. . . .

Michael opened his eyes.

" Stout Fella/' he whispered. " Got the letters ? "

I told him that he would deliver them in person. That we
were the sole survivors. That the relief would come soon
and we should be promoted and decorated.

" For stabbing Lejaune ? " he smiled. " Listen, Johnny.
. . . I'm for it, all right. Bled white. . . . Listen. ... I
never stole anything in my life. . . . Tell Dig I said so, and
do get the letter to Aunt Patricia. . . . You mustn't wait for
the relief. . . . Lejaime's body. . . . They'd shoot you. . .
Get a camel and save yourself . . . . In the dark to-night. .- . .
If you can't get away, say I killed Lejaune. ... I helped to,
anyhow ..."

I do not know what I said.

" No. Listen. . . . Those letters. . . . You are to leave
one on me. . . . Leave it in my hand. . . . Confession. . . .
Do the thing thoroughly. . . . No ncod for you and Dig to
carry on with the game now. . . . You must get the con-
fession published or it's all spoilt. ..."

" You've nothing to confess, Beau, old chap," I said. . . .
" Half a minute, I'm going to get some brandy. . . ."

His fingers closed weakly on my sleeve.
342

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 343

" Don't* be an ass, Johnny," he whispered. " Confession's
the whole thing. . . . Leave it where it'll be found or I'll
haunt you 1 . . . . Gnaw your neck and go * Boo ' in the dark.
. . . No, don't go. . . . Promise. . . . God ! Pm going
blind. . . . John . . . John. . . . Where are you ? . . .
Promise. . . . Confession. . . . John . . . John . . ,"

Within two minutes of his seizing Le Jaime's foot and saving
my life, my brother was dead. ... My splendid, noble,
great-hearted Beau. . . .

I have not the gift of tears. I have not cried since I was a
baby, and the relief of tears was denied me now.

No. I could not weep. But I looked at the revolver, still
clutched in Lejaune's right hand. ... It was only a momen-
tary temptation, for I had something to do for Michael. His
last words had laid a charge on me, and I would no more fail
Michael dead, than I would have failed him when he lived.

Michael's affairs first and if the Touaregs rushed the place
while I attended to them, I would just take Lejaune's revolver
and make a good end. I ought to get five of them, and
perhaps might grab one of their heavy straight swords and
show them something. . . .

I turned to the letters.

One of them was addressed to Lady Brandon. She should
get it, if I had the ingenuity, courage, and skill to keep
myself alive long enough. One was addressed to Claudia.
That too. . . . There was one for me, and one for Digby.
And there was another, crushed up in Lejaune's left hand.
The envelope from which he had torn it lay near. It was
addressed to The Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard,
London, England. Poor Michael's " confession " of something
fle had never done ! I was sorely tempted to destroy it, but
his words were still in my ears, urgent and beseeching. /
was to see that the " confession " was published.

Well let it remain where it was. It would get a wide-
enough publicity if it were found in the dead hand of the
murdered Commandant of a beleaguered fort. ... I picked
up the packet that Lejaune had dropped when* I struck him,
and put it with the three letters into my pocket. I then
opened the one addressed to me. It ran as follows :

344 BEAU QESTB

" My dear John,

When you get this, take the letters that are with it to
Brandon Abbas, as soon as you can. Send them if you can't
take them. The one for Aunt Patricia solve? the Mystery of the
' Blue Water,' at any rate to HEB satisfaction, and she can
publish the solution or not, as she thinks fit, later on. ...
After Uncle Hector's death, for example. . . . Meanwhile, I
beg and beseech and instruct and order you, to see that the letter
addressed to the Chief of Police is not burked. It is exactly
what we all bolted for this averting suspicion from innocent
people (including your Isabel, don't forget, Johnny boy /). We
took the blame between us, and the first of us to die should shoulder
the lot, of course, so that the other two can go home again. You
or Dig would do this for his brothers, and so will I, if I pip
first. So off with the home letters HOME, and see that the
other one gets into the papers and into the hands of the police
and aU that. I have written an absolutely identical letter to this
for Digby too, so I am sure that one or both of you will see that
my wishes are carried out. No nonsense about * DE MORTUIS
NIL NISI BONUM/ mind. It is the living we have to think about,
so do exactly as I tell you. You'll be doing the best for me,
as a matter of fact, as well as for the living, if you carry out
what I ask 50 GO TO IT, PUP.

// / outlive you, I shall do the same by you or Dig, so GO

TO IT.

You spoilt my plans by your balmy quixotic conduct in bunk-
ing from home now put them right by doing exactly as I say.

Good-bye, dear old stoutest of Stout Fellas. See you in the
Happy Hunting Grounds. _

P.S. Don't come near me there, though, if you destroy that

confession."

I put the letter down and looked at his face. Peaceful,
strong, dignified, and etherealised beyond its usual fineness
and beauty. ... I closed his eyes and folded his hands upon
his chest. . . .

How could I let this thing happen let the world have con-

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 345

firmationof tlie suspicion that Michael was a despicable
mean thief ? Or rather, how could I publish to a world that
knew littl* or nothing about the affair, that Michael had done
such a miserable deed ?

I looked at his *f ace again.

How could I disobey his last instructions, refuse his last
request ?

Nor wa^ it a request made impulsively, on the spur of the
moment. He had thought it all out, and written it down
long ago, in case of just such an event as had happened his
predeceasing us. ...

What would Digby do in my position ? Would he take
that paper from Lejaune's hand and destroy it ? I felt ho
would not. He could not, had he been present at Michael's
death, and heard his dying words. . . . Not having done so,
would he blame me if I left that confession there, to be found
by the relieving force ?

Well if he did, he must, and I must act according to my
own light if I could find any. . . .

And suppose the Arabs assaulted again, before the relief
arrived ?

That would settle the problem quite finally, for they would
loot the place, mutilate the dead, and then make the fort
the funeral pyre of the mangled corpses. . . .

I found myself wishing they would do so, and then saw
the cowardice of my wish.

No, it was my affair now to to to ... I actually
found that I was nodding, and had all but fallen backwards
as I sat !

In fact, a heavy faintness, an unspeakable weariness,
formed the only sensation of which my mind or body was now
conscious. I had seen too much, done too much, suffered too
much, felt too much, in the last few hours, to have any other
feeling left, save that of utter exhaustion. I felt that I could
die, but could not sleep.

In the very act of pulling myself together and saying that
this would not do, I must have fallen into a State of semi-
coma that was not sleep.

I shook it off, to find that a new day was dawning, and,

346 BEAU GESTE

for a minute, I gazed around at the extraordinary*sight that
met my eyes the bloodstained roof, the mounds of cartridge-
cases, the stifi figures crouching in the embrasures, the body
of Lejaune with the handle of my bayonet protruding from
his chest ; and Michael's calm smiling face,' as noble in death
as in life. . . .

" I must go, Beau, old chap," I said aloud, " if I am to
get your letter and parcel to Aunt Patricia and tell them of
your heroic death."

I knelt and kissed him, for the first time since babyhood.

And only then, actually not till then, I remembered the
Arabs !

There was no sign of them whatsoever, alive or dead, which
may partly account for my having completely forgotten their
existence. . . .

I should not be doing much toward carrying out Michael's
wishes if I walked straight into their hands. Nor was death
any lesn certain if I remained in the fort till relief came, and
Lejaune's body was found with my bayonet in it.

Idly I supposed that I might remove it and replace it
by that of another man, and blame him for the murder. I
had not the faintest intention of doing so, of course, nor
would my tale have been very convincing, since I was alive
and everybody else neatly disposed and arranged, after
death. It did occur to me that perhaps I could pretend
that I was the hero of the whole defence, and had posed all
these corpses myself, including that of the man who had
murdered Lejaune, but, of course, I did not seriously consider
the idea.

No. Unless I wanted to die, I must evade both the Arabs
and the relieving force from Tokotu. If I could do that, I
must, thereafter, evade the entire population of the desert
between Zinderneuf and safety, as well as evading any
avenging search-party that might be sent out after me. There
were also the little matters of thirst, starvation, and exposure.
All I could do in the faay of preparation in tkat direction
would be to 'load myself with food, water, spare boots, and
ammunition.

Rising to my feet, I wearily dragged myself down the

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 347

stairs and filled and relit the oil-stove. While the kettle
was boiling for coffee, I foraged round, filled my water-bottle
with watef and three big wine-bottles with the same liquid.
Water was goin^ to be infinitely more precious than any
wine, before I was much older. I also emptied my knapsack
and haversack of everything but a pair of boots, and filled
them to bursting, with bread, coffee, and the bottles of water.

I thougnt my best plan would be to load myself up to the
weight I was accustomed to, but to let my burden consist
of food and water. This would grow lighter as I grew weaker
or I should grow weaker as it grew lighter. Anyhow, it
seemed the best thing to do, but how I longed for a camel !
The thought occurred to me that if the relief did not arrive
that day, I could remain in the fort till night, and then try
to get one of the Arabs' camels when it was dark. A moment's
reflection, however, made it clear that if the relief did not
enter the fort pretty soon, the Arabs would.

The sooner I got away, the better chance I should have of
doing it successfully.

I ate and drank all I could, shouldered my burdens and
returned to the roof for a last look round. If I could see
anything of the Arabs in one direction I could, at least, try
to get away in the opposite quarter. If not, I must simply
trust to luck, and crawl ofi in the direction opposite to the
oasis, as being the likeliest one to offer a chance of escape.

I gazed round in all directions. There still was no sign of
an Arab, though, of course, there might have been any number
beyond the oasis, or behind the sand-hills that surrounded
the fort.

I glanced at Lejaune. Should I remove my bayonet from
its place in his evil heart ?

No. My whole soul revolted from the idea. . . , And as
for any hope of concealing the manner of his death, it would
still be perfectly obvious that he had been stabbed by a
comrade and not shot by the enemy.

Besides, Fhad killed him in self-defence self-defence from
as cold-blooded, dastardly, and criminal a muifler as a man
could commit.

No. Let the righteously-used bayonet stay where it was

348 BEAU GESTE

and incidentally I had quite enough to carry Without the
now useless thing. . . .

" Good-bye, Beau," I said, crossing to where hd lay and,
as I spoke, I almost jumped, for the brooding silence was
broken by a ehot, followed by several others. . . .

The Arabs ? . . . No these were neither rifle shots nor
fired towards the fort. The sound of them made that quite
evident.

Crouching, I ran to the side of the roof and looked.

On a distant sand-hill was a man on a camel, a man in
uniform, waving his arm above his head and firing his revolver
in the air.

It was a French officer.

The relief had arrived from Tokotu, and I must escape or
be tried, and shot, for the murder of my superior officer in
the very presence of the enemy. . . .

Yes but what about this same enemy I Where were they f
Was that fine fellow riding to death and torture ? Straight
into an ambush, a trap of which the uncaptured fort with its
flying flag was the bait ? That might well be the explanation
of there having been no dawn-assault that morning, while
I slept. They might, with Arab cunning, have decided that
it would be a much bettor plan to maintain the siege, unseen
and unheard, and lure the relieving force, by an appearance
of peace and safety, into marching gaily into an oasis covered
by hundreds of rifles lining neighbouring sand-hills. They
could massacre the relief -column and then turn to the fort
again. If no relief-force came, they could still assault the
fort whenever they thought fit. ...

As these thoughts flashed through my mind, I decided
that I must warn that man, riding gaily to his death, deceived
by the peaceful quiet of the scene, and the floating Tri-couleur
at the flagstaff top.

Seeing the walls lined, as they were, with soldiers, the
Flag floating above tl^em, and no sign of any enemy, he
would at once conclude that we had long since driven them
off.

Obviously this must be the case, or he would have heard
sounds of rifle-fire, miles away, he would think.

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 349

I must warn him, for I had no doubt, in my own mind,
that hundreds of Arab eyes were watching him.

Nor waa it this man alone, rejoicing there in our safety.
A whole column must be close behind him. Comrades of
ours who had marched day and night to our relief. Of course,
I could not let them walk into the trap, deceived by the very
ruse that had deceived the Arabs. . . .

This officer was no fool, doubtless, but how was he to know
that the fort was a whited sepulchre, tenanted by the dead,
unable to signal to him that he was walking into an ambush
with his column 1 Naturally he would assume, that since
the apparently crowded fort gave him no warning of danger,
there was no danger, and he and his column could come gaily
marching into the fort from which its foes had fled.

This being so, I must warn him myself. I was certain that
Michael would approve, and that he would have done so
himself had he been in my place. It might mean death
instead of escape, but death was certainly preferable to
sneaking off while a whole column of one's comrades marched
to a destruction one had the power to avert.

What to do ? Should I lower the Flag ? Run it up and
down a few times ? Wave my arms and dance about, up
on the look-out platform ? . . .

As likely as not, he would take any such signals as signs
of joy and welcome. If I were he, approaching a fully-manned
fort over whose crowded walls floated the Flag, I should
certainly see nothing of warning about such demonstrations
as those.

Until I was actually fired upon, I should certainly suppose
I was safe and being welcomed to the fort by those whom
I had been too late to assist in their victory over some im-
pudent little raidirig-party.

Exactly 1 Until fired upon 1 That would surely give him
something to think about and, moreover, would give me
a chance of escape, even yet. . . . Long before he came
within shouting-distance he would be rushed by the Arabs.
I would do the firing. *

Kneeling down and resting my rifle in an embrasure, I
aimed as though my life depended on hitting him. I then

350 BEAU GESTE

raised my fore-sight half an inch, and fired. Rushing to
another embrasure, I took another shot, this time aiming to
hit the ground, well in front of him.

He halted.

That was enough.

If he walked into an ambush now, he was no officer of the
Nineteenth Army Corps of Africa. . . .

Rushing across to tho side of the roof furthest from his
line of approach, I dropped my rifle over, climbed the parapet,
hung by my hands and then dropped, thanking God that my
feet would encounter sand. . . . Snatching up my rifle, I
ran as hard as I could go, to the nearest sand-lull. If this
were occupied I would die fighting, and the sounds of rifle-
fire would further warn the relief-column. If it were not
occupied. I would hide and see what happened. Possibly I
might be able to make a very timely diversion upon the
Arab flank if there were a fight, and, in any case, I might
hope to escape under cover of darkness. . . . The sand-hill
was not occupied, I was safely out of the fort, and a chance
of getting safely away existed, whether the Arabs attacked
the column or not.

I crept into an Arab trench and set to work to make a hole
in it, that I might be as inconspicuous as possible should
anybody come, or look, in my direction.

From between two stones on the edge of the parapet of
my trench, I could watch the fort and the oasis. I was
conscious of an uneasy sensation as I watched, that I myself
might be under the observation of enemies in my rear. . . .

As soon as I saw what the Arabs and the approaching
column were going to do, I would consider the possibilities of
a safe retreat in the most likely direction. . . .

I began to wish something would happen, for the situation
was a little trying, and there was too strong a suggestion of
leaving an Arab frying-pan on the one hand, to step into the
French fire on the other ... an Arab torture by frying . . .
a French firing-party at dawn.

While I laj* gazing to my front and wondering what might
be happening behind me, I was astonished to see the French
officer come round the corner of the fort, alone, and pro-

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 351

ceeding atf unconcernedly as if he were riding in the streets
of Sidi-bel-Abbes ! . . .

Well ! 5 had done my best for him and his column. I had
risked my own safety to warn him that things were not what
they seemed ana if the Arabs got him and his men, it was
not my fault.

He could hardly call being shot at a welcome from the
fort ? . . * Round the walls he rode, staring up at the dead
defenders.

I wondered if the shade thrown by the peaks of their caps
would so hide and disguise their faces that, from below, it
would be* impossible to see that the men were dead. . . .

What were the Arabs doing ? . . . Leaving him as further
bait for the trap, and waiting for the whole column to walk
into it ?

Ought I to warn them again ? Surely once was enough ?
It would mean almost certain capture for me, by one side
or the other, if I fired again. . . . Apparently this officer was
unwarnable, moreover, and it would be nothing but a vain
sacrifice to proclaim my existence and my position, by firing
again. . . . And while I argued the matter with my con-
science, I saw that all was well the relieving force was
approaching en tirailleur, preceded by scouts and guarded
by flankers.

Slowly and carefully the French force advanced, well
handled by somebody more prudent than the officer who had
arrived first, and by no means disposed to walk into an Arab
ambush.

A few minutes later, I heard the trumpeter summoning
the fort, blowing his calls to dead ears.

I could imagine the bewilderment of the officer standing
before those closed gates, waiting for them to open, while
the dead stared at him and nothing stirred.

As I waited for him to climb up into the fort or to send
somebody in, to open the gates for him, I came to the con-
clusion that the Arabs must have aUandoned the siege and
departed altogether. I wondered whether this had been due
to Lejaune's ruse and the fort's apparently undiminished
garrison, or to news, from their scouts, of the approach of a

352 BEAU QESTE

strong relief force. Anyhow, gone they were/ and very
probably they had raised the siege and vanished after moon-
rise the previous night. . . .

The officer, hia sous-officier, the trumpeter, and a fourth
man, stood in a little group beneath the wall, some three
hundred yards or so from where I lay. ... I gathered that
the fourth man was refusing to climb into the fort. There
was pointing, there were gesticulations, and the officer drew
his revolver and presented it at the face of the man who had
shaken his head when the officer pointed up at the wall.

The trumpeter, his trumpet dangling as he swung himself
up, climbed from the back of his camel to a projecting water-
spout, and through an embrasure into the fort.

I expected to see him reappear a minute later at the gate,
and admit the others.

He never reappeared at all, and, about a quarter of an hour
later, the officer himself climbed up and entered the fort in
the same way.

As before, I expected to see the gates opened a minute later
but nothing happened. There was silence and stillness.
The minutes dragged by, and the men of the relief-column
stood still as statues, staring at the enigmatical fort.

Presently I heard the officer bawling to the trumpeter, the
men outside the fort began to move towards it in attack-
formation, another squadron of the relief-column arrived on
mules, the gates were thrown open from within, and the
officer came out alone.

He gave some orders, and re-entered the fort with his
second-in-command. No one else went in.

A few minutes later, the officer's companion reappeared,
called up a sergeant, and gave orders, evidently for camping
in the oasis.

It occurred to me that my situation was about to become an
unwholesome one, as, before long, there would be vedettes
posted on all four sides of the fort in a big circle, to say
nothing of patrols.

I must be |oing, if I wished to go at all, before I was within
a ring of sentries. . . .

After a good look round, I crawled painfully and slowly to

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 353

the next sand-hill, trusting that the two in the fort would
find too much of interest, within its walls, to have time to
look over them and see me on my brief journey from cover to
cover. Apparently this was the case, for when I reached the
next sand-hill anS. looked back from behind its crest, there
was no sign that I had been seen.

I rested, regained my breath, and then made another bolt
to the sani-hill behind me, keeping the fort between the oasis
and my line of retreat, and a good look-out for the vedette
which, sooner or later, was certain to come more or less in this
direction.

My best plan would be to creep from cover to cover, between
the sand-hills, as I was doing, until beyond the vedette-circle,
and then hide and rest till night fell. A good night's forced
marching and I should be thirty miles away before the sun
gained full strength, on the morrow. As though for a prize
and, of course, my life was the prize I carried out this careful
scouting retirement until I was half a mile from the fort and
among the big stones that crowned a little hill of rock and sand.
Here I was safe enough for the present. I could lie hidden
and see where the vedettes were posted ; sleep in what shade
there was ; eat, drink, rest, and gather strength ; and set
forth, when the moon rose, on my fairly hopeless journey. . . .
Fairly hopeless ? . . . Absolutely hopeless unless I could
secure a camel. . . . And then and there, I firmly rejected the
idea that entered my mind of killing a vedette to get his
beast. That I could regard as nothing better than cold-
blooded murder.

A more acceptable notion was that of trying to creep into
the oasis, during the night, and stealing a camel from there.
It would be an extremely difficult thing to do successfully,
for there would be brilliant moonlight, a very sharp look-out
for Arabs, and a horrible row from the camel when one dis-
turbed it. ... Yes, very difficult and dangerous, but just
possible, inasmuch as I was in uniform and might be believed
if, challenged.by the camel-guard, I pretended I was an orderly
in search of his camel, for duty. Or if I walked up boldly and
announced that I had been ordered to take a camel and ride
back to Tokotu with a dispatch. . . . Distinctly possible, I
12

854 BEAU GESTE

considered. With really good luck and a really good bluff, it
might be done. The good luck would lie in the camel-guard
being unaware that I wasn't a member of the -relief -force
at all.

If I were not recognised, if my bluff were convincing, if I
were not caught in the act by the very officer whom I should
be pretending to have sent me for a camel ; or if , on the other
hand, there were a chance of simply stealing the cainel unseen
I might get away with it. But there seemed to be a good
many if a. . . .

However, after thinking the matter over from all points of
view, and weighing the chances impartially, I came to the
conclusion that there was more likelihood of Michael's letter
reaching Aunt Patricia if I had a shot at getting a camel, than
if I did not. A thousand- mile stroll across the Soudanese
Sahara did not strike me as one that would lead me home, in
view of the fact that it takes a good man to do it under the
somewhat more favourable conditions of preparation, organisa-
tion, and the protection of numbers and of the law (such as
it is).

I decided to wait until night, see what happened, and recon-
noitre the oasis with a view to deciding whether theft, bluff,
or a combination of the two, offered the greater possibilities
of success in securing a mount.

And the more I could concentrate my thoughts upon
problems and considerations of this sort, the longer could I
postpone and evade the on-rushing realisation of my loss . . .
the longer could I keep myself numb and insensate beneath
the hammer-blows of the terrible Fact that lurked and struck,
lurked and struck ; the longer deafen myself to the waxing
Voice with its ... Michael is dead . . . Michael is dead. . . .
Listen and heed Michael is dead. . . .

In spite of the terrific heat and my unutterable misery and
wretchedness, I fell asleep, and slept soundly until towards
evening.

2.

When I awoke, I realised that I had been lucky. The
nearest vedette was quite a thousand yards to my right, and

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL" 356

so placed that there was no fear of my being seen, so long as
I exercised reasonable precaution.

The BUI* was setting, the appalling heat of the day was
waning in fierceness, and the fort and oasis presented a scene
of normal military activity or rather inactivity for nothing
whatever moved in or around the fort, and there was but
little coming and going about the oasis. Here and there, a
sentry's bayonet gleamed, a man led a mule or camel ; a
little column of smoke rose from among the palms, as a
cooking -fire was lighted or replenished.

So far as I could see, the fort had not been taken over by a
new garrison, nor to my surprise, had the dead been removed
from the walls. Those motionless figures could not be living
soldiers, for no Commandant would have kept his whole force
on duty like that particularly after a day-and-night march
such as this one had just made.

I should have expected to see that the dead had been buried,
the fort occupied, the look-out platform manned, and the
sentry-posts occupied. However, it didn't matter to me what
they did, so long as they left their camels in the oasis. . . .

As I watched, a small party, preceded by an officer on a
mule, crossed from the oasis and entered the fort. I expected
to see them remove the dead from the embrasures, but they
did not do so. From where I was, I could not see on to the
roof, but I should have seen them at work, had they come to
the wall and begun their labours as a burial fatigue- party. . . .

Before long, the party returned to the oasis, the officer
remaining in the fort. I wondered what they made of the
adjudant with a French bayonet in him, of the dead legionnaire
with his eyes closed and his hands crossed upon his breast, of
the men dead upon their feet, of the complete absence of life
in the uncaptured fort from which two warning shots had
come. . . . Some of the superstitious old legionaries would
have wonderful ideas and theories about it all !

The evening wore on, the sun set, e.nd the great moon rose.
In the brief dusk, I crept nearer to the fort and oasis, crouch-
ing and crawling from sand-hill to sand-hill. 1 would wait
until everybody who was not on duty would be asleep ; and
then work round and enter the oasis, walking up boldly as

356 BEAU GESTE

though sent from the fort with a message. If challenged, I
would act precisely as I should have done if dispatched by an
officer to get my camel and hasten back to Tokotut . . .

I imagined myself saying to a sentry who was disposed to
doubt me, " All right, you fool, you hinder me go on. . . .
Don't blame me, though, when I say what delayed me ! . , ."
and generally showing a perfect willingness to be hindered,
provided I was not the one to get the blame. . . . '

From the crest of the next sand-hill, I saw that the men of
the relieving-column were parading outside the oasis, and I
wondered what this portended.

As I watched, they marched towards the fort, halted, faced
into line, with their backs towards me, and stood easy. I
concluded that their officer had given them an " off " day
after their long march, and was now going to work them all
night at clearing up the fort, burying the dead, and generally
re-establishing Zinderneuf as a going concern among the
military outposts of Empire-according-to-a-Ilepublic.

This might be very favourable to my plans. If I marched
boldly up to the oasis, as though coming from the fort, when
everybody was very busy, and demanded a camel, I should
probably get one. . . .

The Commandant rode out from the oasis on a mule, and
the men were called to attention. He was evidently going to
address them probably to congratulate them on the excel-
lence of their forced march and refer to the marvellous defence
put up by the garrison of the fort, who had died to a man in
defence of the Flag of their adopted country.

Suddenly, the man standing beside him cried out and
pointed to the fort. Instinctively I looked in the direction
of his pointing finger and very nearly sprang to my feet at
what I saw.

The fort was on fire !

It was very much on fire too, obviously set alight in several
places and with the help of oil or some other almost explosive
combustible. . . . And * what might this mean ? Surely it
was not " by order " ? Not the result of official decision ?

Of course not. . . . Could it be the work of some superstitious
legionary left alone in the place as watchman ? No. If there

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 357

were anybody at all on duty there, he would have been up on
the look-out platform, the emptiness of which had puzzled
me. ...

How was this going to affect my chance of escape ? Ought
I to make a dash lor the oasis while all hands were engaged in
an attempt to put the fire out ?

And, as I stared, in doubt and wonder, I was aware of a
movement on the roof of the fort !

Carefully keeping the gate-tower between himself and the
paraded troops, a man was doing precisely what I myself had
done ! I saw his cap as he crept crouching along below the
parapet; I saw his arm and rifle come through an embrasure,
I saw the rifle fall, and a minute or so later, as a column of
smoke shot up, I saw him crawl through the embrasure and
drop to the ground. By good luck or by skill, he had chosen
a spot at which he was hidden from the vedette that had been
a thousand yards to my right. . . .

And who could he be, this legionary who had set fire to the
fort of Zinderneuf ? He certainly had my sympathy and
should have my assistance. I must see that he did not crawl
in the direction of the vedette. He might not know that he
was there. I began creeping in a direction that would bring
me on to his line of retreat in time to warn him.

A few minutes later he saw me, and hitched his rifle forward.
Evidently he did not intend to be taken alive. Very naturally ,
after setting fire to one of Madame la Republique's perfectly
good forts. ... I drew out what had been a handkerchief r
and from the safe obscurity of a sand- valley, waved it. I then
laid my rifle down and crawled towards him. I noticed that
he was wearing a trumpet, slung behind him.

As I came closer to the man, I was conscious of that strange
contraction of the scalp-muscles which has given rise to th&
expression " his hair stood on end with fright."

I was not frightened and my hair did not stand on end, but
I grew cold with a kind of horrified wonder as I saw what I
took to be the ghost or astral form <tf my brother there before
me, looking perfectly normal, alive, and natural.

It was my brother my brother Digby Michael's twin. . . .

" Hullo, John," said Digby, as I stared open-mouthed and

358 BEAU GESTE

incredulous, " I thought you'd be knocking about Somewhere
round here. Let's get off to a healthier spot, shall us ? "

For all his casual manner and debonair bearing,- he looked
white and drawn, sick to death, his hands shaking, his face a
ghastly mask of pain.

" Wounded ? " I asked, seeing the state he was in.

" Er not physically. ... I have just been giving Michael
a ' Viking's Funeral' " he replied, biting his lip.

Poor, poor Digby ! He loved Michael as much as I did (he
could not love him more), and he was further bound to him by
those strange ties that unite twins psychic spiritual bonds,
that make them more like one soul in two bodies than separate
individuals. Poor, poor Digby !

I put my arm across his shoulders as we lay on the sand
between two hillocks.

" Poor old John ! " he said at length, mastering his grief.
" It was you who laid him out, of course. You, who saw him
die. . . . Poor Johnny boy ! . . ."

" He died trying to save my life," I said. " He died quite
happily and in no pain. . . . He left a job for us to do. . . .
I've got a letter for you. Here it is. ... Let's get well off
to the flank of that vedette and lie low till there's a chance to
pinch a camel and clear out ..." and I led the way in a
direction to bring us clear of the vedettes and nearer to the
oasis.

A couple of minutes after our meeting, we were snugly
ensconced behind the crest of a sand-hill, overlooking the
parade of our comrades, the oasis, and the burning fort. A
higher hillock behind us, and to our right, screened us from the
nearest vedette.

" And," said Digby, in a voice that trembled slightly,
" they're not going to spoil Michael's funeral. Nor are they
going to secure any evidence of your neat job on the foul
Le jaune. . . . They're going to be attacked by Arabs ..."
and he raised his rifle.

" Don't shoot anybody, Dig," I said. It seemed to me there
had been enctogh bloodshed, and if these people were now
technically our enemies and might soon be our executioners,
they were still our comrades, and innocent of offence.

A "VIKING'S FUNERAL" 359

" Not gbing to unless it's myself," replied Digby. " Come
on, play Arabs with me . ." and he fired his rifle, aiming
high.

I followed his example, shooting above the head of the
officer as I had d\>ne once before that day.

Again and again we fired, vedettes to left and right of us
joining in, and showing their zeal and watchfulness by firing
briskly at*nothing at all unless it was at each other.

It was a sight worth seeing, the retreat of that company of
legionaries. At a cool order from the officer, they faced about,
opened out, doubled to the oasis, and went to ground, turning
to the enemy and taking cover so that, within a couple of
minutes of our first shots, there was nothing to be seen but a
dark and menacing oasis, to approach which was death. . . .

" Good work ! " said Digby. " And they can jolly well stop
there until the fort is burnt out. . . . We'll go in and get camels,
as vedettes whose camels have been shot by these attacking
Arabs, later on. ... If we swagger up to the sentry on the
camels, and pitch a bold yarn, it ought to be all right. . . ."

" Yes better if one of us goes," said I. " Then, if he
doesn't return, the other can clear off on foot, or try some other
dodge."

" That's it," agreed Digby. " I'll have first go."

" Now tell me all that happened," he added, " and then I'll
bring you up to date."

I did so, giving him a full account of all our doings, from the
time he had left us to go to the mounted company.

" Now tell me a few things, Dig," I said, when I had finished,
and he knew as much as I did.

He then told me of how his escouade had suddenly been
ordered from Tanout-Azzal to Tokotu. Here they had found,
of all people on this earth, the Spahi officer who had once-
visited Brandon Abbas, now Major de Beaujolais, seconded
from his regiment for duty with mounted units in the Terri-
toire Militaire of the Soudan, where the mobile Touaregs were
presenting a difficult problem to the peaceful penetrators
towards Timbuktu and Lake Tchad.

The Major had not recognised Digby, of course, nor Digby
him, until he heard his name and that he was a Spahi.

360 BEAU GESTE

(And it was at Kim that I liad been shooting that day, or
rather it was he at whom I had not been shooting. It was
this very friend of boyhood's days whom I had been trying to
warn against what I thought was an ambush ! . . . Time's
whirligig ! . . .)

At Tokotu, news had been received that Zinderrieuf was
besieged by a huge force of Touarcgs, and de Bcaujolais had
set oil at once.

The rest I knew until the moment when I had seen
Digby, who was de Beaujolais' trumpeter, climb into the
fort. . . .

" Well you know what T saw as I got on to the roof," said
Digby, *' and you can imagine (can you, I wonder ?) what I
felt when I saw Beau lying there. ... I dashed down below and
rushed round to see if you were among the wounded, and then
realised that there were no wounded, and that the entire
garrison was on that awful roof. . . . That meant that you had
cleared out, and that it was your bayonet ornamenting
Lejaune's chest, and that it was you who had disposed
Michael's body and closed his eyes. Someone must have done
it, and it wasn't 0110 of those dead men. . . . Who else but you
would have treated Michael's body differently from the
others ? As I have told you, I was mighty anxious, coming
Along, as to how you and Michael were getting on, and whether
we should be in time, and I had been itching to get up on to
the roof while de Beaujolais was being dramatic withRastignac.
. . . You can guess how anxious I was now. . . . What with
Michael's death and your disappearance. . . .

" I could almost see you killing Lejaune, and felt certain it
was because he had killed Michael and tried to kill you for
that cursed ' diamond.' ... I tell you I went dotty. . . .

" ' Anyliow he shall have a " Viking's Funeral" ' I swore,
and I believe I yelled the words at the top of my voice, ' and
then I must find John* . . . You know, it was always Beau's
constant worry that harm would come to you. It was the
regret of his life, that he Vas responsible for your bolting from
home. . . . You young ass. ...

"Anyhow, my one idea was to give him a proper funeral and
then to follow you up. I guessed that you had stuck there,

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 361

the sole "survivor, until you saw de Beaujolais, and then
slipped over the wall. . . .

" Then J heard someone scrambling and scraping at the wall,
climbing up, and I crept oil and rushed down below, with the
idea of hiding tilH got a chance to set fire to the beastly place,
if I could do nothing better for Beau. ... I saw the door of
the punishinent-ct'11 standing open, and I slipped in there and
hid behind the door. There was just room for me, and I
should never be seen until someone came in and closed the
door of the cell which wasn't likely to happen for a long
while. . . .

" Soon I heard do Beaujolais bawling out for me, and by the
sound of his voice lie wasn't much happier than I was. . . .
The sight upstairs was enough to shake anybody's nerve, let
alone the puzzle of it all. . . . By and by I heard him and the
Sergeant-Major talking and hunting for me. They actually
looked into the cell once, but it was obviously empty
besides being a most unlikely place for a soldier to shut himself
in voluntarily ! . . . I gathered that old Dufour was even lees
happy than de Beaujolais, who certainly wasn't enjoying
himself. . . . Presently they went away, and the place
became as silent as the grave. It occurred to me that what-
ever else they made of it they must be certain that Lejaune
had been killed by one of his own men and that the man must
have bolted. If I could also vanish in this mysterious place,
it would give them something more to puzzle over ; and if I
could absolutely destroy it, there would be no evidence for
them to lay before a court martial. . . . Mind, I had been
marching for twenty-four hours and was all but sleeping on
my feet, so I wasn't at my brightest and best, by a long way
apart from what I had just seen. . . .

" When I felt pretty certain that there was no one about, I
crept up on to the roof again and took a look round.

" There was a sentry at the gate, and the company was
evidently going to camp in the oasis, and have a sleep before
entering the fort.

" I pulled myself together, crawled over to wliere Beau lay,
heaved him up in my arms and carried him below to his own
bed in the barrack-room. All round his cot I laid piles of
12*

362 BEAU GESTE

wood from the cook-house and drenched it with lamp oil. I
did my best to make it a real ' Viking's Funeral ' for him,
just like we used to have at home. Just like he used to want
it. My chief regret was that I had no Union Jack to drape
over him. . . .

" However, I did the best I could, and covered the whole
pyre with sheets of canvas and things. . . . All white, more
or less. . . . There was no sign of the wood and oifc . . . He
looked splendid. . . . Then, after thinking it over, I took the
spare Tri-couleur and laid that over all. ... It wasn't what
I would have liked, but he had fought and died under it, so
it served. ... It served. . . . Served. ..."

Digby's head was nodding as he talked. He was like a
somnambulist. I tried to stop him.

" Shut up, John. ... I must get it clear. . . . Oh, Beau I
Beau! . . . / did my best for you, old chap. . . . There was
no horse, nor spear, nor shield to lay beside you. . . . But I put
a dog at your feet though. . . . And your rifle and bayonet was
for sword and spear. . . ."

He must be going mad, I feared.

" A dog, old chap ? " I said, trying to get him back to
realities. " You are not getting it right, you know. , "

" Yes, a dog. ... A dog at his feet. ... A dog lying
crouching with its head beneath his heels. . . ."

This was getting dreadful.

" I did not carry it down, as I carried Beau. I took it by
one foot and dragged it down. ..."

" Lejaune ? " I whispered.

" Yes, John. Lejaune with your bayonet through his
heart. He won't give dumb evidence against you and Beau
had his ' Viking's Funeral ' with a dog at his feet. ..."

I think I felt worse then than I had felt since Michael died.
I gave Digby a sharp nudge in the ribs with my elbows.

" Get on with it and don't drivel," I said as though in anger.

" Where was I ? " said Digby, in the tone of a man waking
from a nap. **

" Oh, yes. And when all was ready, John, I sat and talked
to Beau and told him I hadn't the faintest idea as to what he'd
been up to in this * Blue Water ' business, but what I did know

A "VIKING'S FUNERAL" 363

was that,' far from being anything shady, it was something
quixotic and noble. . . . And then what do you think I did,
John ?..*.! fell asleep and slept till the evening. . . .

" I was a bit more my own man when I woke up. I went
up on the roof to see what was doing. . . . Creeping to the
wall and peeping over, I saw that the Company was parading,
and that I had cut it very fine. I thanked God that I had
awakened*in time, for in a few minutes they would be march-
ing in, to clean up and take over.

" I crept back and set fire to Beau's funeral pyre. Then I
rushed off and poured a can of oil over the pile of benches and
furniture that I had heaped up in the next room. I set light
to that and knocked another can over at the foot of the stairs.
I lit it and bolted up to the stair of the look-out platform. At
the bottom of this, I did the same, and by that time it would
have taken more water than there is in the Sahara to put the
place out. ... I decided that Beau's funeral was all right,
the evidence against you destroyed, and the time arrived for
me to clear out. . . ."

He yawned prodigiously.

" So I came to look for you, John. ... To look for ...
for . . ."

Digby was asleep.

Should I go to sleep too ? The temptation was sore. But
I felt that if we were to save ourselves, we must do it at once.
We could hardly hope to lie there all night and escape detec-
tion in the morning, when the place would be swarming with
scouts and skirmishers.

I decided to watch for an hour or two, while poor Digby
slept. At the end of that time I would wake him and say
that I was going to make the attempt to get a camel. . . .

It was extraordinarily silent. ... It seemed impossible
that the oasis, lying there so black and still, was alive with
armed men. Even the camels and mules were behaving as
though aware that the night was ijpusual. Not a grunting
gurgle from the one or a whinnying bray from the other
broke the brooding stillness of the night. I wondered if every
man had been made responsible for the silence of his own
animal, and tad muzzled and gagged it. I smiled at the idea.

364 BEAU GESTE

Not a light showed. Was the idea to make the smouldering
fort a bait for the Arabs whom de Beaujolais would suppose
to be in the neighbourhood a bait to attract th^m to his
lead-and-steel-fanged trap ? . . .

How would it be possible, after all, for me to approach that
silvered black oasis, across the moonlit sands, without being
challenged, seized, and exposed for what I was ? I had
anticipated approaching a normal, somnolent camp not a
tensely watchful look-out post, such as the oasis had become
from the time Digby and I had fired our rifles.

Would it be better, after all, to sleep all r ' s;ht and try to
bluff the camel-guard on the morrow, when tie whole place
would be buzzing with life and activity ? Ii seemed a poor
look-out anyway. And how bitterly one would regret not
having made the attempt on foot, if one were seized in the
effort to take a camel. . . .

Having decided that Digby had slept for about a couple of
hours, I woke him up.

" What about it, Dig ? " I said. " Are we going to have a
shot at getting a camel, or are we going to march ? We must
do one or the other, unless you think we might do any good
here by daylight. . . ."

" Oh, quite," replied Digby. " I'm sure you're right, John,"
and went to sleep again, in the act of speaking.

This was not exactly helpful, and I was trying to make up
my mind as to whether I should give him another hour, or
knock him up again at once, when I saw two camel-riders
leave the oasis. I rubbed my eyes.

No. There was no doubt about it. A patrol was going out,
or dispatches were being sent to Tokotu.

Here were two camels. Two well-fed, well- watered camels
were coming towards us.

I did not for one moment entertain the thought of shooting
their riders, but I certainly toyed for a moment with the idea
of offering to fight them, fair and square, for their beasts ! If
we won, we should ride tfff and they would tramp back to the
oasis. If they won, they'd continue about their business and
we should be where we were. ... A silly notion. . . . About
two seconds after revealing ourselves, we should be looking

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 365

into the muzzles of their rifles, and have the option of death
or ignominious capture. . . . Why should they fight us ? ...
I must really pull myself together and remember who I was
and where I was. , . .

The camels drcftv nearer and I decided, from their direction,
they were on the way to Tokotu.

I crawled down the reverse slope of my sand-hill and ran
along the Valley at its base. Climbing another hillock, I saw
that a repetition of the manoeuvre would bring me on to their
line. I did not know what I was going to do when I got there,
but I felt there would be no harm in trying to find out who
they we're and where they were going. If we followed them
and got a chance to steal their camels while they were not too
far from the oasis to return on foot, I had an idea that we might
take that chance. The temptation would be very strong, as
it was a matter of life and death to us, while to them it would
be merely a matter of a long day's march and a fearful tale of
terrific combat with the horde of Arabs who had shot their
camels. . . .

Suddenly a well-known voice remarked conversationally :

" We sure gotta put them niga wise, Buddy. . . . We don*
want nawthen to eventooate to the pore boobs through us not
taking 'em by the hand, . . ."

" Hank ! " I yelped in glee and thankfulness, and he and
Buddy turned their camels towards me.

" Here's one of the mystery boys, anyhow," went on Hank.
" I allowed as how you'd be around somewheres when we see
you all three gone missin' from the old home. ..."

In a valley between two sand-hills, Hank and Buddy
brought their camels to their knees and dismounted. Both
wrung my hand in a painful and most delightful manner.

" No offence, and excusin' a personal and dellikit question,
Bo," said Buddy, " but was it you as had the accident with
the cigar-lighter an' kinder caused arsonical proceedins ? . . ."

" Sort of * arson about ' with matches like ? " put in Hank
solemnly. *

" No," I said. " It was Digby set fire to th fort."

" Then I would shore like to shake him by the hand, some/*
said Hank. " Is he around ? "

366 BEAU GESTR

" Having a nap over there," I replied.

" The other bright boy too ? " asked Buddy. " An 1 where's
Lejaune ? Havin' set fire to the home, hev you taken Poppa
by the ear an' led him out into the garden for to admire ? . . ."

As quickly as possible I told him what h'ad happened of
Michael's death and " funeral."

" He was a shore white man, pard. 'Nuff said," commented
Hank.

" He was all-wool-an'-a-yard-wide, Bo," said Buddy, and I
felt that Michael might have had worse epitaphs.

A brief silence fell upon us.

" Gee ! " said Hank after a while. " Wouldn't it jar you 1
It shore beats the band. Such nice quiet boys too always
behavin' like they was at a party, an* perlite as Hell an' one
of 'em kills the Big Noise an* the other sets the whole gosh-
dinged outfit afire an' burns out the dod-gasted burg. . . .
Some boys, I allow. . . ."

I greatly feared that our deeds of homicide and arson had
raised us higher in the estimation of these good men than
any number of pious acts and gentle words could ever
have done.

As I led the way to where I had left Digby sleeping, I asked
the Americans where they were going.

" Wai we was eorta sent lookin' fer some nigs from
Tokotu," replied Hank. " Ole Man Bojolly allows they'll run
into an Injun ambush if they ain't put wise. We gotta warn
them there's Injuns about, fer all the location's so quiet an*
peaceful-lookin* . . ."

" I wonder they didn't git you two boys when they shot us
up," he added.

" We were the Arabs," I confessed with modest pride.

" Gee I " admired Buddy. " Can you beat it I ... I shore
thought there was thousands come gunnin' fer us. ... Oh,
boy ! You quiet perlite young guys. . . . Mother / . . ."

" How many guns did you shoot then ? " enquired Hank.

" Two," I replied. " Rapid fire. And then the vedettes
obligingly joined in."

Buddy gave a brief .hard bark, which may, or may not,
have been meant for laughter.

A "VIKING'S FUNERAL" 807

" Sunday pants of Holy Moses I " he observed. " And that
lyin* son of a skunk of a Schneider swore he shot seven of you
himself ^nd the rest of you carried away their bodies as he
retired in good order ! Thinks he oughta get the mtdaille
mtiitaire or somerthin*. . . ."

" Yep," confirmed Hank, " an' Ole Man Dupanloup esti-
mates the lot that was agwine ter rush the parade, when he
held 'em p, at from a hunderd to a hunderd an' fifty. He
lost count of the number he killed after a score or so. ...
Gee 1 At them north outposts there was some bloody battle,
son. . . ."

" And some bloody liars," observed Buddy, who had
sojourned in London.

I had difficulty in awaking poor Digby, but when he realised
that Hank and Buddy were actually present in the flesh, he
was soon very much awake and on the spot.

" Say, boys," he went on, after greeting them and hearing
their tale of the Battle of the Vedettes, " it's a lot to ask, I
know. But do you think you could be attacked, like Dupan-
loup, by about a hundred and fifty of us, and lose your camels ?
. . . They'd be ihot beneath you, or on top of you, if you
like, while you fought desperately one to seventy-five,
isn't it ! ... You would have peace with honour, and we'd
have a chance to save our lives. We don't pretend that
they're very valuable, but we've got something we really must
do for our brother. . . . And I promised Mother I'd bring
the Baby home," he added, indicating me.

" Fergit it, son," replied Hank to Digby, but he looked at
Buddy.

" Couldn't you possibly let us have them ? " I said. " If
we went a mile or two further on, we could kick up a fearful
row with our four rifles, and you could go back and collect a
medal when old Dupanloup gets his. . . . Stroll home doing
a rear-guard stunt, and we'd pepper the scenery in your
direction before we rode off. ... The Senegalese are safe
enough. There are no Arabs and* no ambush. . . . And we
simply shan't have a little dog's chance without camels."

" We want 'em, Bo," replied Hank with quiet finality*

" Shore,' 1 agreed Buddy, eyeing him.

368 BEAU GESTE

I was surprised and disappointed. Even more disappointed
at the attitude of my friends than at the loss of the camels.

" Well all right then ! We won't fyht you for them/'
said Digby, " but I wish it had been someone else."

" I don't get your drift. Snow again, Eo," said Buddy,
who seemed pained.

" Why someone else ? Don't you admire our low and vulgar
ways, paid ? " asked Hank. " Don't you like us i "

" Yes, but to be honest, at the moment I like your camels
better," replied Digby.

" Well, then you got the lot, ain't you ? " asked Hank.
" What's bitin' you now, Bo ? "

" Do you mean you're coming with us? " I asked, a great
light dawning upon me, a light that so dazzled my eyes that I
was afraid to look upon it.

" You shore said a mouthful, Bo," replied Hank. " Why,
what did you figger ? That we'd leave you two innercent
children to wander about this yer sinful world all on your
lone ? . . ."

" After you bin and killed their Big Noise ? And obliterised
their nice little block-house ? " put in Buddy. " 'T wouldn't
be right, boy. 'Course we're comin 7 along."

I really had to swallow hard as I took their horny hands.

" But look here, boys," Digby remonstrated, after follow-
ing my example and trying to express thanks without words,
" there's no need for that. Give us your camels and anything
else you can safely spare, and go back in modest glory. There's
nothing against you. If you're caught escaping with us and
helping us, you'll be shot with us. It will be * desertion in the
face of the enemy when sent on reconnaissance ' when it
comes to the court martial."

" Go back nawthen," said Buddy. " Look at here. This is
what Hank wants to say. ... Is there any Injuns around ?
Nope. Is those nigs from Tokotu in any danger ? Nope.
Hev you had a square deal in this Madam Lar Republic-house
stunt ? Nope. Didn't yi/u and your brother stand by your
dooty in this mutiny game ? Yep. Wasn't you two scrapping
all the time and doing your damnedest till everybody else had
handed in their checks ? Yep. And then didn't this Lejaune

A "VIKING'S FUNERAL" 369

guy start in to shoot you up t Shore. And what'll happen to
you now if they get you ? Shoot you up some more. Shore.
Tain't a iquare deal. . . .

" Well, we figger that these nigs from Tokotu aren't on the
chutes fer the bo^-wows. Nope. They're marchin' on right
now fer Ziriderneuf like John Brown's body or was it his
soul ? safe enough. . . . We allow you ain't got no chance
on a lone frail. Not a doggoned smell of one. You're two
way-up gay cats an' bright boys, but you're no road-kids. You
don't know chaparral from an arroyo nor alkali sage-brush
from frijoles. You couldn't tell mesquite from a pinto-hoes.
Therefore .Hank says we gotta come along. . . ."

" Shore thing," agreed Hank, " and time we vamoosed too,
or we'll hev these nigs a-treadin* on us. They'll go fer a walk
on empty stummicks ours. ..."

A minute later each of the camels bore two riders, and we
were padding off at a steady eight miles an hour.

" Aiiy pertickler direction like ? " said Hank, behind whom
I was riding. " London ? N'York ? Morocker ? Egyp* ?
Cape Town ? All the same ter me."

Buddy drove his camel up beside ours.

" What about it, Dig ? " said I to my brother. " We've
got to get out of French territory. . . . Morocco's north-west ;
Nigeria's south-east. . . ."

" And where's water ? " replied Digby. " I should say the
nearest oasis would be a sound objective."

" If there's a pursuit, they'd take the line for Morocco for
certain, I should say," I pointed out. " I vote for the opposite
direction and a beady eye on our fellow-man, if we can see
him. Where there are Arabs there'll be water somewhere
about, I suppose."

" Shore," said Hank. " We'll pursoo the pore Injun.
What's good enough fer him is bad enough for us. You say
wheer you wants ter go, an* I allow we'll see you there but it
may take a few years. What we gotta do first is turn Injun,
see ? ... Git Injun glad rags, and live like they does. We're
well-armed and got our health an' strength an' hoes-sense.
When in the desert do as the deserters does. , . . Yep. We
gotta turn Injun/ 2

370 BEAU GESTB

Prom which I gathered that Hank the Wise firmly Advocated
our early metamorphosis into Arabs, and the adoption of Arab
methods of subsistence in waterless places.

"Injuns lives by lettin' other folks p-0-juce an* then
collectin'," put in Buddy.

" We gotta collect/' said Hank.

" From the collectors," added Buddy.

From which I gathered further that our friendf? were pro-
posing not only that we should turn Arab, but super-Arab,
and should prey upon the Touareg as the Touareg preyed
upon the ordinary desert-dweller. It seemed a sound plan,
if a little difficult of application. However, I had infinite
faith in the resourcefulness, experience, staunchness, and
courage of the two Americans, and reflected that if anybody
could escape from this predicament, it was these men, familiar
with the almost equally terrible American deserts.

" I vote we go south-west," said Digby. " We're bound to
strike British territory sooner or later and then we're abso-
lutely safe, and can easily get away by sea. We're bound to
fetch up in Nigeria if we go steadily south-west. If we could
hit the Niger somewhere east of Timbuktu it would lead us
straight to it."

" Plenty o' drinkin' water in the Niger, I allow," observed
Buddy. " But there don't seem ter be no sign-posts to it*
It shore is a backward state, this Sahara. ..."

" Anyhow it's south-west of us now, and so's Nigeria,"
Digby insisted.

" Starboard yer helium," observed Hank. " Nigeria on the
port bow about one thousand miles."

And that night we did some fifty or sixty of them without
stopping, by way of a good start a forced march while the
camels were fresh and strong.

As we padded steadily along, we took stock of our resources.

With my bottles of water, and the regulation water-
bottles, we had enough for two or three days, with careful
rationing. * *

Similarly with food. I had a haversack full of bread, and
the other three had each an emergency ration as well as army
biscuits.

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 37)

Of ammunition we had plenty, and we hoped to shoot
dorcas gazelle, bustard, and hare, if nothing else.

Had Michael been with us, I should have been happy. As
it was, the excitement, the mental and physical activity, the
hopes and fears attendant on our precarious situation and the
companionship of my brother and these two fine Americans
combined to help me to postpone my defeat by the giants of
misery, pafn, and grief that were surely only biding their time,
lurking to spring when I could no longer maintain my defences.

Digby, I think, was in much the same mental condition as
myself, and I wondered if I, too, had aged ten years in a night.

As we fogged steadily on, the monotony of movement, of
scene, and of sound, sent me to sleep, and every now and then
I only saved myself from falling by a wild clutch at Hank,
behind whom I was surcmg.

No one spoke, and it is probable that all of us slept in brief
snatches though they must have been very brief for those
who were driving the camels.

I came fully awake as the sun peered over the far-distant
edge of the desert to our left.

I longed for a hot bath and hotter coffee, for I ached in
every nerve and muscle.

" ' " They'll have fleet steeds that follow" quoth young
Lochinvar/ " said Digby.

" They've got 'em/' replied Buddy, looking behind as we
topped a ridge of rock.

On we drove, south-west, throughout what was, very com-
paratively speaking, the cool of the morning, until Hank
thought we should be making more haste than speed by
continuing without resting the camels.

" I don* perfess ter know much about these doggoned
shammos, as they call 'em," observed Hank, " but I allow you
can't go very far wrong if you treats 'em as hosses."

" Shore," agreed Buddy, " J cept that they got more control
of their passions like. . . . Fer eats, and fer settin' up the
drinks, anyhow. . . . They can Irfie on nawthen. Ai* as
that's just what we pervided for 'em, they oughta thrive/'

" We'll have to find something for them," said Digby, " if
it's only newspaper or the thatch of a nigger's hut/'

372 BEAU GESTE

" I hev heard of 'em eatin' people's hats at dime shows and
meenageries," said Hank. " My Aunt 'Mandy went to Ole
Man Barnum's show on her golden weddin' day, an* a camel
browsed her hat and all her back hair, an* she never knowed
it until she felt a draught. . . . Yep. They kin hev our kepis
if they wait till we got some Injun shappos an* pants an 5
things. . . ."

I was aware that camels had meagre appetites Und queer,
limited tastes, embracing a narrow selection ranging from bran
to the twigs of dead thorn-bush, but I agreed with Digby that
we should have to give them something, and something other
than our caps. Our lives depended upon these two ugly,
unfriendly beasts, for without them we should either be
quickly recaptured or else we should die of thirst and starva-
tion, long before we could reach any oasis.

In the rapidly narrowing shadow of a providential great
rock in this thirsty land, we lay stretched on our backs, after
an ascetic meal of bread and water.

" What's the programme of sports, Hank ? " I asked, as we
settled ourselves to sleep.

" Another forced march tcr git outta the onhealthy location
o' Zinderneuf," he replied. " Then we gotta scout fer Injuns
or an oasis. Spread out in a four-mile line an' peek over
every rock and hill. . . . We'll shore fix it . . ." and he
went to sleep.

Personally I slept till evening without moving, and I was
only then awakened by the grumbling, gurgling roar of the
camel that Hank was girthing up, one of his feet pressed
against its side and all his weight and strength on the girth-
rope.

Having put the camel-blanket on the other animal, lifted the
wooden framework regulation saddle on to it, girthed it up,
taken the nose-reins over the beast's head and looped them
round the pommel, he bawled " All aboard," and stood with
his foot on the kneeling camel's near fore-knee, while I climbed
into the rear part of the* saddle. He then vaulted into the
front seat and the camel, lurching heavily, came to its feet
with an angry hungry roar.

Buddy and Digby mounted the other beast, and once more

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 373

we were off, not to stop until we estimated that there were at
least a hundred miles between us and Zinderneuf .

This w#s, of course, too good to last or too bad, from the
camels' point of view. At the end of this second ride they
must have food rnd a day's rest, if not water.

Again I slept spasmodically, towards morning, especially
after Hank had insisted upon my embracing him round the
body and Jeaning against him.

I was awakened from a semi -slumbrous state of corna by an
exclamation from Buddy, to realise that it was day again, the
camels were standing still, and their riders gazing at what
Buddy w,as indicating with outstretched arm.

Over the level stretch of unblown sand which we were
crossing, ran a broad and recent trail of camel footprints .

This trail crossed ours, though not at right angles. If We
were going south-west I should think the riders were going
south or north.

Hank and Buddy brought the camels to their kneee, with
the gentle insistent " Oosha, baba, oosha ; adar-ya-yan ! "
which is about the only order that a camel obeys without
cavil or protest.

Following the footmarks and regarding them carefully,
they decided that there were about twenty camels in the party,
that they were going south, and that they had passed quite
recently.

" What we bin lookin' for ! " observed Hank with grim
satisfaction, as he swung himself back into the saddle. " The
nearer we kin git to them Injuns, the quicker but we don'
wanta tread on 'em. Keep yer eyes skinned, boys." And the
others having remounted, on we went.

I should think we followed this trail for three or four hours,
without seeing anything but the eternal desert of sand and
rock.

For some time I had been wondering how much longer we
were to go on without resting the camels, when a grunt of
satisfaction from Hank renewed my waning interest in life.
He brought the camel to a halt and pointed, as t Buddy ranged
up beside us.

We had come to the bank of a very wide and rather shallow

374 BEAU GESTE

dry river-bed, whose shelving sides led down to gravel and
stones which at one time must have been subject to the
action of running water. The place looked as though a river
had flowed along it ten thousand years ago.

But what Hank was pointing to was the upot to which the
footprints led.

Beneath a huge high rock, that rose from the middle of the
river-bed, was a dark inviting shadow around \.hich were
dry-looking tufts of coarse grass, stunted dwarf acacias, and
low thorn-bushes.

The camels were perceptibly eager to get to this spot.

" Water," said Hank. " May have to dig."

But there was no need to dig. Beneath and around the rock
was a pool, fed presumably from a subterranean source. It
wasn't the sparkling water of an English spring, bubbling up
among green hills, by any means. The green was rather in
the water, but we were not fastidious, and certainly the camels
were not. On the contrary, we were delighted and deeply
thankful.

Here were shade, water, and camel-food, giving us a new
lease of life, and encouragement on our way. It was evident
that a party of travellers had recently halted here.

" Good old Touaregs," said Digby, as we dismounted in the
glorious shade. " Obliging lads. We'll follow them up just as
long as they are going our way home."

" We gotta do more'n foller J em up," said Hank. " We
gotta catch 'em up. They gotta lend us some correc* desert-
wear striped gents' suitings. Likewise grub-stake us some."

" Shore," agreed Buddy. " An' we ain't no hoss-thieves
neither, but I allow they gotta lend us a couple o' good camels
too."

From the first, the Americans had been anxious to secure
Arab dress, both on account of possible pursuit from Zinder-
neuf, and as being less conspicuous and less likely to bring
every wandering Arab band down upon us, directly they
caught sight of us and recognised us for hated Roumis.

They were doubly anxious to procure the disguise on learn-
ing that, in the south, towards Nigeria, there were numerous
forte and outposts of the French Niger Territory, garrisoned

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 375

by Senegalese, and that between these posts, numerous
patrols would carefully watch the caravan-routes, and visit
such Arab towns and settlements as existed.

It would certainly be better to encounter a patrol in the
role of Arabs than in that of runaway soldiers from the
Foreign Legion.

Accordingly Hank decreed that we must push on, only
enough tinte being spent here for the camels to eat and drink
their fill. He was of opinion that the party we were following
was an offshoot of the big band that had attacked Zinderneuf
and was on its way to " gather in " some village which they
visited periodically.

Here they would appropriate its harvest of dates or grain,
such camels as might be worthy, those of its sons and daughters
who might be suitable for slaves, and any goats, clothing,
money, and useful odds-and-ends that they might fancy.

These Touareg bands make an annual tour and visit the
villages of an enormous area, in the spirit of somewhat
arbitrary and undiscriminating tax-collectors. What they
want, by way of tax, is everything the villagers possess that
is portable, including their young men and maidens.

If the villagers are reasonable and relinquish everything
with a good grace, there need not be any bloodshed or very
little, just in the way of fun and sportive merriment.

The Touaregs do not wish to destroy the village and slaugh-
ter the inhabitants, because they prefer to find a peaceful and
prosperous community here, again, next year.

All they wish to do, is to clean them out absolutely and leave
them alone to amass some more. But if the villagers choose
to be uppish and truculent, giving their visitors trouble they
must take the consequences which are fire and sword and
torture.

Or, if the band is off its regular beat and not likely to come
that way again, it combines sport with business, and leaves
no living thing behind it, nor any roofed dwelling in what was
a village scarcely one stone upon*another of what was a
little town.

After about three hours' rest, we pushed on again, and rode
for the remainder of the day and right through the night.

376 BEAU GESTE

The fact that we did not come up with our quarry deemed to
confirm the theory that they were a war-party on raiding
business. Peaceful caravans and travellers would never go at
such a pace, and we should have overtaken such a party
easily. . . .

On this side of the river, or rather river-bed, the scenery
began to change. The earth grew greyer in colour, cactus and
acacia began to appear, and there were numerous, great rock
kopjes. The change was from utterly lifeless sand-desert to
rock-desert, having a sparse vegetation.

Suddenly we heard distant rifle-fire to our front a few
scattered shots. Simultaneously, Hank and Buddy .brought
the camels to their knees among the rocks, and we dismounted,
unslinging our rifles as we did so.

" Mustn't get the shammos shot up," said Hank to me.
" You hold 'em, Bo, while we rubber around some," and they
skirmished forward.

Nothing further being heard and nothing seen, they re-
turned, and we rode on again.

Rounding a great rock, a mile or two further on, a rock that
reminded one of a Dartmoor tor, we saw an ugly sight.

A woman had been tied to an acacia tree and horribly
mutilated. I need say no more about the sight and its effect
upon us, although I might say a good deal.

It was evident that she had been herding a flock of goats. . . .

" Village near," said Hank, and he and Buddy again simul-
taneously wheeled the camels round, and we retired behind the
tor and dismounted.

" We'll corral the hosses here, and scout some," said Hank.
" It'll be worth dollars to see these darned coyotes before they
see us."

This time the camels were tied with their agals, and left.
We advanced en tirailleur, as though to the attack of an Arab
douar, a manoeuvre with which our training had made us only
too familiar.

Gradually we approached what appeared to be a o completely
deserted village by an oasis at the edge of a deep ravine. I
should think there had been a village on this spot for thou-
sands of years, though the present buildings were wretched

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 377

mud huts 'crowning the basements of ancient stone houses of
great strength. It was as though a tribe of gipsies, encamped
permanently on an Ancient British hut-circle site on Dart-
moor, had used the prehistoric stones in the construction of
their rude dwellings.

Into this village, evidently very recently abandoned, we
made our way with due precaution.

In one o$ the huts, on a rough angareb, lay a wounded man.
As we entered, he drew a curved dagger from his belt and
feebly struck at us.

" We are friends," said I in Arabic. " Tell us what has
""happened* We want to help. . . ."

Digby also, aired his Arabic, and the man was convinced.
He appeared to understand all we said, and I understood
him about as well as an English-speaking Frenchman would
understand a Devonshire yokel.

I gathered that the usual village tragedy had developed as
follows :

A woman, minding goats, had seen a band of Touaregs
approaching (this man called them " The Veiled Ones, the
Forgotten of God "), and had foolishly, or bravely, got up
on a rock and screamed the news to a youth, who was working
nearer the village. They had both then started running, but
the Touaregs had caught the woman. The youth had roused
the village and the men had rushed out with their rifles to
some rocks near by, ready to fire on the Touaregs, and hoping
to give the impression of a large and well-armed force, fully
prepared to give them a warm reception. The women and
children had scuttled to the big ravine behind the village,
down which they would make their way to their usual hiding-
place.

A couple of lads had been sent off to warn the men who
had taken the camels out to graze.

The speaker had been one of these men, and while he and
one or two others were collecting the camels and driving them
to the ravine, a Targui scout had c^me upon them and shot
him. The rest of the Touaregs had come straight to the spot,
circled round, fired a volley, and closed in on the camels.
He himself had been left for dead. When he came to his

378 BEAU GESTE

senses he was alone with the corpses of the other camei-
guards, and he had slowly crawled to his hut to die.

The Touaregs had camped and were calmly enjojring a well-
earned rest. Apparently the village men were still watching
events from their place among the rocks , the women and children
were in hiding down the ravine, and the camels were captured.

I gathered that it would have been less calamitous had
the camels been in hiding down the ravine, and therwomen and
children captured.

We explained the situation to Hank and Buddy.

" Sport without danger, and business with pleasure," was
their view, but we must give the Touaregs the shopk of theii
lives.

We held a council of war, and it was decided that the
wounded man should get in touch with the villagers and tell
them that we were friends of theirs. More, we were deadly
enemies of the Touaregs, and (most) we'd get the camels back
and give them those of the Touaregs too if they'd play the
man and do as we bade them.

Having told his tale and grasped that we really wished to
befriend him, the wounded man seemed to be farther from
death than he had thought. He was shot through the chest,
but I did not think that his lungs had suffered, as there was
no haemorrhage from the mouth.

After a drink of water and a pill, which Digby gave him
with the assurance that it would do wonders for him (though
I doubted whether they were wonders suitable to the situa-
tion), he got ofl the angareb and staggered to the doorway of
the hut. From here he peered beneath his hand for a while,
and then tottered out and did some signalling.

Very pluckily he stuck to it until an answering movement
among the rocks, unseen by us, satisfied him, and he returned
to the hut.

Shortly afterwards, a hail brought him to the door again,
and this time he walked off fairly steadily, and disappeared
into the ravine.

He returned with a big, dirty squint-eyed Arab, who, he
said, was the headman of the village, which was called Azzigig
(or sounds to that effect).

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 379

The headman was in the mental condition of one who sees
men as trees walking, when he found himself in the presence
of four armed and uniformed Roumis, two of whom spoke
Arabic to him, and all of whom wished him to put up a fight
for Azzigig, Hony3, and Beauty.

His own idea was to thank Allah that things were no worse,
and to lie low until the Touaregs chose to depart, praying
mean whiles that they would do so in peace, without troubling
to hunt out the villagers, burn the houses, slaughter the goats,
and have a little torture-party before doing so.

When I asked if he felt no particular resentment about the
mutilated woman and the slaughtered camel -guards, to say
nothing of the loss of the entire stock of camels, he replied
that it was doubtless the will of Allah, and who should dispute
that?

When I pointed out that it was obviously the will of Allah
that we should arrive in the nick of time, and that the Touarega
should camp and rest instead of riding off, he said he would go
and talk with his brethren.

This he did, and returned with a deputation of very dirty,
suspicious, evil -looking Arabs, who evidently did not believe
what he had told them, and had come to see for themselves.

" Gee ! " observed Buddy. " Watta ugly bunch o* low-
lifer hoboes."

" Some stiffs," agreed Hank.

However, I harangued the stiffs, offering them a chance of
recovering their camels and teaching the Touaregs a lesson.
I fumbled for the Arabic for " catching a Tartar " as I tried to
get these fatalists to see they had as much " right to life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness " as Touaregs, and that
the latter had no God-given privilege to torture, murder, and
rob. As for the " Will of Allah," let them follow us and show
a little pluck, and they'd soon see what was the will of Allah
in the matter.

In support Digby said, " Anyhow, we're going to attack
them, whether you do or not. Those yho help us will share the
loot."

As the loot would include excellent rifles and incomparable
camels, this gave the poor wretches something to think about.

380 BEAU GESTE

In the end, they agreed that if we would really fighft for them,
and with them, and give them all the loot, except a couple of
camels, as we had promised, they would fight their hardest.

We began by reconnoitring the Touareg camp.

Absolutely certain of their complete security, the robbers
had merely lighted fires and lain down to rest, leaving one of
their number to guard their own camels and two to guard those
stolen from the villagers.

Presumably these guards were more herdsmen than sentries,
as the Touaregs had nothing to fear. Villagers do not attack
victorious Hoggar robbers. It simply is not done. All that
was necessary was to prevent the camels from straying, and
to have a rest before proceeding on the tax-gathering journey
with or without a little sport in the village before
starting. . . .

Our plan was simple for our job was easy.

Half a dozen selected heroes of Azzigig were to deal with the
somnolent loafing camel-guards silently if possible. Every
rifle that Azzigig could boast was then to be discharged into
the Touareg camp, from as close a range as it was possible to
wriggle to.

When the Touaregs bolted to the ravine, as they certainly
would do, to take cover from this blast and organise their
defence they would find their way blocked by the entire
French army, in uniform, with a bugler blowing calls to bring
up thousands more ! . . .

I must say that the villagers behaved very well. They were,
of course, born desert fighters, and we had put heart into them.

After a tremendous volley, at about forty yards* range, they
charged like fiends, and when we four arose from behind rocks
and the Touaregs recoiled in astounded terror, they sur-
rounded them like a pack of wolves.

In a brief, mad, happy minute of hacking, stabbing, and
shooting, they worked off a good deal of the personal and
ancestral grudge of centuries. As they outnumbered the
Touaregs by five or six o one, had them at a complete dis-
advantage, and knew we were behind them, they made a short
job of it and a clean one.

From another point of view it was not a clean one.

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 381

At any r&te, we prevented torture even if we could not save
life. For once it was the under-dog's turn, and he used his
teeth

Digby, not unreasonably, claimed that the bugle really won
the battle. t

The upshot of the business was that we left Azzigig, each
riding a splendid mehari camel, and each clad in the complete
outfit of a Touareg raider newly washed for us by the grateful
dames of the village. Nor could the lads-of-the-village do
enough for us. What they could, and did, do, was to provide
us with a guide and a spare camel laden with food and water,
!b help us, on our way to the next village and oasis in the
direction of our goal.

A desperate band of ruffians we looked, Touareg to the last
detail of dress, weapons, and accoutrement.

Lean and leathery hawk-faced Hank and Buddy made
splendid Arabs, and seemed to enjoy " playing Injun " like
a pair of boys.

They soon learned the uses and arrangings of the serd and
jubba vests, the kaftan inner coat, the hezaam sash, the
jelabia overall, the sirwal baggy trousers, the ma-araka skull
cap with the kafiya head-dress bound round with the agals,
ropes of camel-hair.

The blue veils which the Touaregs wear, were the chief
trouble, but in time we grew accustomed to them.

I do not know whether these veils are a centuries-old relic
of the days when the Touaregs were a white race and took care
of their complexions ; whether they were a sudden bright
idea for keeping the sand from the lungs in windy weather ;
whether they were invented for purposes of mystery and
playing bogey with their enemies and victims ; or whether
they simply evolved as. useful desert- wear for people always
on the move, against cutting sand-filled winds and a burning
glare that smites upward as well as downward. Anyway, it is
curious that only the Touaregs evolved them.

On our camels we carried zemzim&yas full of water, and
jaafas, or leather sacks, which our hosts filled with hubz, or
native bread, and asida, horrible masses of dough mixed with
oil and onions, flavoured with fil-fil, a sort of red pepper.

382 BEAU GE8TE

On the spare camel were huge khoorgs, or saddle-bags, filled
with alafs of fodder for the camels, as well as girbas full of
water.

We discarded our two military saddles and replaced them
with Arab sergs, and, in fact, " went native " altogether,
retaining nothing European but our rifles and Digby's bugle.

And in doing this, even, we were not guilty of any anomaly,
I had been interested to note that, along with h^avy swords
of Crusader pattern, and lances and knives of a type unchanged
since the days of Abraham, the Touaregs carried splendid
magazine-rifles of the latest pattern.

Both these and their ammunition were of Italian make, aricf
I wondered whether they had been captured an Tripoli, or
smuggled by the Chambaa rifle-runners of Algeria. As two
men had Turkish rifles and cartridges of 450 calibre, 1
thought it likely that the former was the source. The useful
bugle was, of course, concealed.

Before we departed, the village pulled itself together,
and, evidently trying to show us " what Todgers* could do "
in the way of a diffa, or feast, regaled us upon/a^a, a mess of
carrots, bread, and eggs, and a quite decent cous-cous of goat.

For wassail, the headman brought up from the " cellar "
(under his bed) a magnum (leather) of lagKbi, a rare old
vintage palm- juice, which had lain mellowing and maturing
in bottle for quite a week.

I found that my names for things of this sort were not
always the same as the names I had learned in Algeria, but
by any other name they smelled as remarkable.

I asked Hank what he thought of the " liquor."

" Fierce, ain't it ? " replied he, and left me to apply mine
own evaluation to the word.

" Guess we could stop here to be the Big Noise of the tribe,"
remarked Buddy, endeavouring to feed himself gracefully
with his fingers not an easy thing to do when a spoon is the
indicated instrument.

" Yep. Shakers ancf emus," agreed Hank,' with hazy
memories of .sheikhs and emirs perhaps.

" And a harem-scarum," added Buddy.

" Why don* the gals jine the hash-party ? " he enquired,

A " VIKING'S FUNERAL " 383

looking round to where the women, in their long barracans,
sat afar off and admired the prandial performances of their
lords. ,

" Shut up. Take no notice of the women-folk," said Digby.
" Sound plan amc\ng Mussulmans of any kind."

" No doubt yore right, pard," agreed Buddy, " but there
shore is a real little peach over there jest give me the glad eye
like a Christian gal as knowed a hill o' beans from a heap o*
bananas. Cute an cunnin'. . . . Still, we don't want no rough
stuff from the Injuns. . . . My, but it was a cinch . . ." and
he sighed heavily. . , .

CHAPTER VII
ISHMAELITES

u Greater love liath no man than this,
That a man lay down his life for his friend*

I COULD fill a large volume with the account of our adven-
tures, as Touaregs of the Sahara, on this ride that began
at Azzigig, in the French Soudan, and ended (for some of us)
at Kano in Nigeria, in British West Africa.

It was perhaps the longest and most arduous ride ever
achieved by Europeans in the Sahara few of whom have ever
crossed the desert from north to south without an organised
caravan.

We rode south-west when we could, and we rode north-east
when we must, as when, north of Air, we were captured by
Touaregs on their way to their own country on the borders of
Morocco.

During one terrible year we made an almost complete
circle, being at one time at El Ililli, within two hundred miles
of Timbuktu, and, at another, at Agadem, within the same
distance of Lake Tchad and then later finding ourselves at
Bilma, five hundred miles to the north.

Sometimes thirst and hunger drove us to join salt-caravans,
and sometimes slave-caravans (and we learnt that slavery is
still a very active pursuit and a flourishing business in Central
Africa). Generally these caravans were going in the direction
opposite to ours, but we had to join them or perish in the
waterless desert.

Sometimes we were I unted by gangs larger than our own ;
sometimes we were met at villages with volleys of rifle-fire
(being taken, naturally, for what we pretended to be) ; some-
times we reached an oasis only to find it occupied by a patrol

384

ISHMAELITES 385

of French Senegalese troops far more dangerous to us than
the nomadic robbers for whom we were a match when not
hopelessly outnumbered.

Whether we did what no Europeans have ever done before,
I do not know, bat we certainly went to places where Euro-
peans had never been before, and " discovered " desert cities
which were probably prehistoric ruins before a stone of
Damascus was laid.

We encountered no Queens of Atlantis and found no white
races of Greek origin, ruled by ladies of tempestuous petticoat,
f o whom it turned out we were distantly related.

Alas, no. We found only extremely poor, primitive, and
dirty people, with whom we sojourned precisely as long as
untoward circumstance compelled.

Of course, we could never have survived for a single month
of those years, but for the desert-skill, the courage, resource-
fulness, and experience of Hank and Buddy.

On the other hand, the ready wits of Digby, and our know-
ledge of Arabic, saved the situation, time after time, when we
were in contact with our fellow-man.

On these occasions we became frightfully holy. Hank and
Buddy were marabouts under a vow of silence, and we were
Senussi on a mysterious errand, travelling from Kufra in the
Libyan desert to Timbuktu, and visiting all sorts of holy
places on the way.

Luckily for us, there were no genuine Senussi about ; and the
infinite variety of sects, with their different kinds of dervishes,
and the even greater variety of people who spoke widely differ-
ing dialects of Arabic, made our task comparatively easy.

Probably our rifles, our poverty, and our obvious truculence
did still more in that direction.

We suffered from fever, terrific heat, poisonous water, bad
and insufficient food, and the hardships of what was one long
campaign of active warfare to live.

At times we were very near the end , when our camels died,
when a long journey ended at a dried-up well, when we were
surrounded by a pack of the human wolves of the desert, and
when we were fairly captured by a harka of Touaregs,
suspicious of bur bona fides. ...
13

386 BEAU GESTE

As I have said, an account of our katabasia would fill a
volume, but the description of a few typical incidents will
suffice to give an idea of it, without rendering tLe story as
wearisome as was the journey.

For example, our discovery of the piacj where there cer-
tainly ought to have been " a strange fair people of a civilisa-
tion older, and in some ways higher, than our own ; ruled over
by a woman, so incredibly beautiful, so marvellously . . /' etc.

One day we rode over the crest of a long ridge of sand-
covered rock straight into a band of armed men who out-
numbered us by ten to one, at least, and who were ready anH r
waiting for us with levelled rifles.

We did as we had done before, on similar exciting occasions.
The Holy Ones, Hank and Buddy, fell dumb, and Digby
became the emissary of the Senussi Mahdi ; I, his lieutenant.

Digby rode forward.

" Salamoune aleikoumi Esseleme, ekhwan " (Peace be unto
you, brothers), said he, in solemn, sonorous greeting, to which
a fine-looking old man replied, to my great relief, " Aselamu,
alaikum, marhaba, marhaba " (Greetings to you and welcome),
in a different-sounding Arabic from ours. It turned out later
that the old gentleman took us for an advance-party of a big
band of Touaregs who were near, and was only too charmed to
find us so charming.

Digby then proceeded with the appropriate account of
ourselves, alluding to the dumb forbidding Hank and Buddy,
as most holy men, khouans, hadjis, marabouts, under a strict
vow of silence that it would be ill work for any man to attempt
to break. Himself and me he described as m'rabets, men
hereditarily holy and prominent in faith and virtue.

How much of this our hearers understood, and how much of
what they understood, they believed, I could not tell, but they
were obviously relieved to find us friendly and not part of a
larger force.

We were promptly ^nvited to come along, and thought it
best to comply, there being little reason against doing so and
much against refusing. In any case they had " got us,** from
the moment we came upon their levelled rifles, our own slung
behind us ; and we were at their mercy. As we rode along,

ISHMAELITES 387

nominally guests, but feeling we were prisoners, I was in-
terested to hear Dig by assuring the old sheikh that though
we were as holy as it is given to mere men to be, we were
nevertheless good hefty proselytisers who carried the Q'ran
in one hand arid tho sword in the other, fighting- men who
would be pleased to chip in, if the Touaregs attacked his band.

The old gentleman returned thanks and said that, once
home, they did not fear all the Touaregs in the Sahara, as the
place was quite impregnable. This sounded attractive, and
proved to be perfectly true.

What did trouble them, was the fact that when they set off
with a caravan of camels for sale at Tanout, it was more than
likely that tLey would, for months, have to fight a series of
pitched battles or lose the whole of the wherewithal to pur-
chase grain for their subsistence, for there was nothing a
Touareg robber desired more than camels.

" It is the only wealth that carries itself," observed Digby
Bententiously.

After riding for some three or four hours towards some low
rocky mountains, we reached them and approached a narrow
and lofty pass. This we threaded in single file, and, coming
to the top, saw before us an endless plain out of which arose
a gar a, an abrupt and isolated plateau, looking like a gigantic
cheese placed in the middle of the level expanse of desert.

Toward this we rode for another hour or two, and discovered
it to be a precipitous mountain, sheer, cliff-sided, with a flat
top ; tho whole, I suppose, about a square mile in area.

Apparently it was quite inaccessible and untrodden by the
foot of man, or even of mountain sheep or goat. Only an eagle,
I imagined, had ever looked upon the top of that isolated
square mile of rock.

I was wrong, however, the place proving to be a gigantic
fort a fort of the most perfect kind, but which owed nothing
whatever to the hand of man.

Circling the cliff-like precipitous ^ase of the mountain, we
came to a crack in the thousand-foot wall, a crack that was
invisible at a hundred yards.

Into this narrow fissure the sheikh led us in single file, and,
squeezing our way between gigantic cactus, we rode along the

888 BEAU GBSTB

upward-sloping bottom of a winding chasm that was not six
feet wide.

Suddenly our path was cut by a deep ravine, some three
yards wide, a great crack across the crack in which we were
entombed. Bridging this was laid a number of trunks of the
ddm palm, and over these a matting of palm-leaf and sand
made a narrow but safe path for camels.

Obviously this bridge could easily be removed if-necessary,
and the place defended with the greatest ease, if any enemy
were foolish enough to attempt to bridge the abyss while the
defenders dropped boulders from terrific heights, and fired
their rifles at point-blank range from behind the string stone
wall that faced the chasm.

Having crossed the bridge, we rode on upward to where
this narrow slit in the mountain opened out into a big rock-
enclosed square like a landing on a staircase beyond which
camels could not go.

In this natural serai we dismounted and left our beasts,
continuing our climb on foot.

It was, indeed, an impregnable place, and I did not see how
the best troops in the world could capture it, so long as there
remained a stout-hearted defender in any one of the invisible
places that commanded the path up which two men could
nowhere climb abreast, and where, in many places, only one
could squeeze with difficulty.

And on the plateau was a walled city, a city built of blocks
of dressed stone, blocks larger than any I have ever seen put
to such purpose, and obviously of such an age in this use as
must have left them old there when the world, as we know of it,
was young.

It was a great and melancholy place, containing, I should
think, at least three times as many d\ felling-places as there
were dwellers. Personally, I lost any sense of our precarious
position and all feeling of danger and anxiety, in interest and
wonderment at this " walled city set upon a hill," and such a
hill.

But, as I have said, there was no wonderful white race here
for us to restore to touch with modern civilisation. Nor was
there any wonderful black race either. The inhabitants of

I8HMAELITE8 389

this strange city were just ordinary Arabs, I believe, though
I am no ethnologist, and, so far as they knew, they had
" always " lived there.

Nevertheless, I felt perfectly certain that no ancestor oi
theirs had placed those incredible monoliths in position, noi
made for themselves doorways twelve and fifteen feet in
height, leading into chambers ten feet higher.

These people were undoubtedly the long- established
dwellers in this city, but none the less were they dwellers in
someone else's city, and merely camping in it at that, even if
for a few thousand years.

However, they were very interesting people, living simply
and austerely under the benign sway of their patriarchal
sheikh, and quite hospitable and friendly. They knew but
little of the outside world, though they realised that there
were Roumis and infidels of all kinds, other cities than their
own, holy places besides Mecca and Medina, and greater
sheikhs, sultans, and emperors than their own. They ap-
parently regarded the world, or at any rate their world, aa
divided up into Touareg robbers on the one hand, and the
enemies and victims of Touaregs on the other.

In their marvellous rock fastness they were safe, but out
on the desert they were at the mercy of any nomadic robber-
band stronger than themselves.

Water they had in plenty, as their mountain contained an
apparently inexhaustible well and spring, and they had goat-
flesh and a little grain, vegetables, and dates, but were com-
pelled to make the six months' caravan journey to Tanout
for the grain that formed the staple of their food, as well as
for ammunition, salt, and cooking- vessels for which com-
modities they exchanged their camels as well as dressed goat-
skins, and garments beautifully woven and embroidered by
their women-folk.

With these good folk we stayed for some days, a pleasant
restful oasis in the weary desert of our lives, receiving genuine
Arab hospitality, and repaying it with such small gifts as
were of more value to them than to us, and t by offering to
scout for, and fight with, their caravan then about to set out
across ft notoriously dangerous traot of country to the east.

390 BEAU GESTB

We must have puzzled the simple souls of this inbred dying
people, for though we were obviously of strict piety, and
observed the same hours of prayer as themselves from the
fedjer at dawn to the asha at night, we would not pray in
company with them, nor, as we eat and faddhled (or gossiped)
round the sheikh's fire at night, would we say one word on
religious subjects. We ran no unnecessary risks. A dignified
" Allahou akbar " or " In chdh Allah" showed our /agreement
with the speaker and our pious orthodoxy, and it had to suffice.
As puritanical protestant reforming Senussi, we had a higher
and purer brand of Islamism than theirs, but refrained from
hurting their feelings by any parade of it. ...

Digby was great, and his descriptions of Mecca^and Medina,
Baghdad, Constantinople, and Cairo, Fez, Timbuktu, and
Kufra, held his hearers spellbound and left them little time
for questions.

Hank and Buddy were equally great, in what they did not
say and the manner in which they did not say it.

Nevertheless, it was well we could make the departure of the
caravan our opportunity for going, and it was well that our
hosts were what they were, and even then the ice, at times,
was very thin.

We descended from this extraordinary and apparently
absolutely unknown prehistoric city, and set off with the
caravan, rested and in better case than we had been in for
months.

We were going in the right direction, we were approaching
Air, we should then be near a caravan-route on which were
wells ; and if our danger from our fellow-men, Arab and
French, was likely to increase, our danger from the far more
terrible enemy, the desert, would decrease.

With luck, we might parallel the caravan-route and make
dashes for water when opposite the oases on the route, trusting
that we should be able to evade French patrols (of Senegalese
infantry and Arab goumiera) and Touareg rai ding-parties alike.

We said our " Abka-ala 9 Kheir " (good-byes) to our late hosts
and heard the# " Imshi besselema " (Go in peace) with real
regret, at the last oasis on our common route, pressed on in
good heart and high hopes, did very well for a month, and

ISHMAELITES 391

then fell straight into the hands of the rascally and treacherous
Tegama, Sultan of Agades, when we were only four hundred
miles from the frontier of Nigeria and safety.

2.

Our visit to Agades was a very different affair from that to
the impregnable city on the hill. In the latter place we felt
no real fear and little anxiety. In Agades we walked very
warily, our hearts in our mouths and our heads loose upon
our necks. To the old sheikh we had been objects of wonder
and interest. To the Sultan Tegama we were objects of the
->ost intense suspicion.

There was nothing of the simple out-of-the-world dweller-
apart, about the swashbuckling ruffians of this City of the
Plain, nor about the arch-ruffian Tegama, their leader (executed
later by the French for treachery), nor would the pose of pious
Senussi emissaries have been of any avail in these circum-
stances. In the idiom of Buddy, there was no moss upon the
teeth of the Sultan Tegama and his gang. In the idiom of
Digby there were no flies upon these gentlemen.

We owed our lives to the fact that we escaped before the
worthy Tegama had quite placed us, and was quite certain
that we were not what we pretended to be seditious mischief-
makers from the north, bent upon raising the desert tribes of
the centre and south against the French in a great pan-
Islamic jehad.

Not that Tegama had the slightest objection to being so
" raised " ; far from it. Nothing would have suited him
better, for there was nothing he enjoyed more ; and if to
rapine and slaughter, fire and sword, robbery and massacre,
he could add the heaven-gaining merit of the destruction of
the Unbeliever and the overthrow of his empire in Africa, the
oup of his happiness would be full. . . .

But we puzzled him undoubtedly. Our accent, manners,
habits, ignorance, eyes, complexions, faces, and everything
about us puzzled him.

Certainly we spoke Arabic fluently and knew men and
cities ; we seemed to be hadjis all right ; we - inveighed with
convincing bitterness against the French ; we were upstanding

392 BEAU GESTB

deaert fighting-men with nothing whatsoever European about
our clothing and accoutrements ; we were too small a party
to be dangerous, and there was no earthly reason why we should
be French spies (for the emissaries of France came perfectly
openly in the shape of extremely well-equipped military
expeditions, pursuing the well-worn way of all peaceful
penetrators, and were a source of fear and bitter hatred to the
Sultan) but, we had no credentials; we gave absolutely no
information whatsoever about the strength, disposition, and
movements of the French forces ; we had no cut-ami- dried
play for an on-fall ; and the dumbness of two of us did not
seem to mark them out as born emissaries of sedition, unrest
and rebellion !

When Togama voiced these suspicions, Digl/y, with fine
courage, took the high hand and, as tactfully as possible,
hinted that there might be things in the minds of the Great
Ones, our masters, that were not to be comprehended by every
petty desert chieftain, and that one thing about their minds
was the certainty of a powerful and dangerous resentment
against anybody who hindered the free movements of their
messengers, or behaved as though they were the friends of
the very Infidels from whom these Great Ones were endeavour-
ing to free Islam. . . .

And the gentle Tegama halted long between two opinions,
whether to impale us out of hand, or whether to put off till
to-morrow what he would like to do to-day, in case we were
what we said we were.

It was an unpleasant time, and though we were not ill-
treated nor imprisoned, our rifles and camels were " minded "
for us, and we never found ourselves alone- particularly when
we walked abroad, although it was obvious that no one could
escape from Agades on foot.

We felt that at any moment Tegama might decide that we
were genuine delegates and emissaries from those who were
then so busily stirring the fermenting brew of pan-Islamic
discontent in northern Africa and let us go ; and also that
at any moment we might so betray ourselves that he would
decide we were impostors and forthwith impale us, living,
on the sharpened stump of a young tree. . . .

ISHMAELITE8 398

We had been caught at dawn, in an oasis south-west of the
Baguezan mountains, by a harka of Tegama's that had evidently
been raiding and robbing to the north, and, for a week or so,
we rode south as the prisoner-guests of the einir in command,
a magnificent specimen of the best type of desert Arab.

Him Digby had told the same tale that lie had told to the
old sheikh and many another inquisitive wayfarer, but he had
decided tor alter his tale for the private ear of the Sultan as
soon as we learnt that it was to so important and well-informed
a person that we were to be taken.

Whispering together at night, we decided that Hank and
Buddy istust of course remain dumb, and that we must put up
a terrific bluJI of mystery. It would be worse than hopeless
to pretend to be Senussi from Kufra, in a place like Agades,
where it was quite probable there were specimens of the
genuine article, and where our stories would rapidly bo tested
and found wanting.

And so we took the high hand with Tegama, so far as we
dared ; told him that we had no definite message for him yet,
but that on our return journey he would hear things that
would surprise him, and so forth. . . .

Agades proved to be a very ancient, clay-built, sand-buried
walled town, containing a remarkable mosque with a tower
like a church spire, and although so utterly lost in the very
heart of the Sahara, still in touch with the outside world by
reason of being on the pilgrim-route to Mecca, and on the
great caravan-route that crosses Africa.

The only other building that was not insignificant was the
Sultan's palace, a big two-storied building of baked clay,
surrounded by a high thick clay wall, the gateway through
which was practically a short tunnel.

Through this tunnel, and past very strong gates made of
palm-trunks nailed solidly together upon cross-pieces, we were
led into a dirty square of desert sand and stones, two sides of
which were formed by mud huts that backed against the high
enclosing wall. l

One side of the square was occupied by the palace and
another by a mosque. Camels, goats, chickens, and dirty men
ornamented this palace courtyard or back-yard.
13*

394 BEAU GE3TB

We were invited to enter the palace, and througn another
small tunnel came into a big windowless hall, with unorna-
mented clay walls, clay coiling, and clay floor.

Here we were kept waiting with our escort, and stood in
haughty silence until conducted across a small inner court-
yard to the presence-chamber of the Sultan of Agadea.

This was another windowless clay room with great arched
exiling beams and a door, ten fe<*t from the ground, up to
which ran a clay staircase. In tho middle of the wall opposite
the door by which we entered, wan a throne, also of clay a
base material for so exalted a symbol, but at leant it was of
honest clay, which its occupant was not.

Cross-legged on this bed-like throne, in dirty, white robes,
sat Tegama, who carried on his face the stamp of bis ruling
passions, greed, cruelty, iiwt., savagery, and treachery.
Around him stood a small group of wazirs, sheikhs, soldiers,
and what I uncomfortably took to be executioners.

The Sultan glared at us ami 1 folt sorrowful to the tips of
my toes. I knew by now all thf> ways that eurh gentlemen have
of putting to death those of whom they do not approve, and I
liked none of them at all. Impaling, a favourite one, I liked,
perhaps, the least. . . .

Digby took the bull by the horns, greeted Tegama politely,
hoped he was well, professed pleasure at seeing him, and said
he had a good deal to say to him later on, when he had made
some arrangements further south and had taken the political
temperature of one or two places in Damerghou and Darner-
grim.

Digby took it for granted that we were honoured guests, and
that nothing so silly as the idea of molesting UP would ever occur
to so wise and great a ruler as the good Tegama of AgaHes.

The good Tegama of Agades continu* d to eye us coldly.

" And who might you be, with your talk of Kl Senupsi ? "
he enquired contemptuously.

" That is for your ear alone," replied Digby. " I have told
the sheikh whom we er met, in the Baguezan oasis, such
things as are fitting to be told to underlings. I come from those
whose business is not shouted in every douar and quasr and
chattered about to every wayfarer/ 1

ISHMAELITES 395

And heVe I boomed :

" No, indeed ! Allah forbid ! " and smiled at the idea.

" Oh, you can talk, can you ? " sneered Tegama, who had
evidently been told that some of us were dumb.

" Salaam aleifrum wa RaJnnab Allah," I intoned piously.
" Our Master in the north Rahmat ullahi Allahim (and he
may be in Morocco, and he may be in Algiers, and he may be
near heretvith a mighty army of the Faithful) is not one of
whose affairs his messengers babble, nor is he one whose
messengers are delayed."

" And what is his message ? " asked Tegama, with, I thought,
less sneer in his voice.

" That comes not here yet," replied Digby. " The word
comes to the great and good Sultan of Agades later, when the
time is ripe . . ." and much more of bluff and mystification
that sufficiently impressed Tegama to lead him to wait and
see.

He waited but he did not see, for we escaped this time,
I must admit, thanks to Buddy's irrepressible interest in
" squaws."

What he could have achieved had he had the free use of his
tongue I cannot say. In this case, although love was not only
blind, but dumb as well, it contrived to laugh at locksmiths,
and we other three benefited by the laughter.

We got away and on good camels, but we had not a rifle
among us, nor any other weapon of any sort whatever.

I am tempted to tell, in full, the story of this evasion, for
it was a most romantic business, with all the accessories of
fiction and melodrama. I have said that the story of this
journey alone would fill a large volume, and it would be small
exaggeration to say that a complete account of our sojourn in
Agades would fill another.

I wish I had space in which to tell of the incredible things
we saw in this place, whose atmosphere and ways and deeds
were those of a thousand years ago.

I have .read that the first Europ .ans to set foot in Agades
were the members of the French Military Mission (which came
with the great annual salt-caravan from the south in 1904),
but I coultf tell of a fair-bearded man who stared at us with

396 BEAU GESTE

blazing grey eyes, a man whose tongue had been cut 6ut, whose
ears and fingers had been cut off, and who was employed as a
beast of burden.

I could also tell of a Thing that sat always in the S6k,
mechanically swaying its body to and fro as it crooned. Its
lips, eyelids, ears, hands, and feet had been cut off, it was
blind, jind it crooned in German.

I could tell of such scenes as that of the last hours of a very
brave man, who was bound face downwards on a plank that
was thrust over the edge of an enormously deep dry well. At
the other end of the plank was a big stone and a jar of water
that slowly leaked, either by reason of a crack or its< porosity.
\\ hen the water had leaked away to such an extent that tho
weight of tho jar and stone was less than that of the man, he
and the plank would go headlong down into the dark depths
from which he would never return.

There he lay staring down into the horrible place, while
rouuu . i bout sat citizens of leisure who told him to hurry with
his last prayers, for the water was nearly gone, while others
bade, iiim to heed them not, for he had hours longer to wait. . . .

I should like to toll of Tegama's executioners, four negroes
who were the most animal creatures I ever saw in human
form, and not one of whom was less than seven feet in height.
The speciality of their leader was the clean, neat flicking-off
of a head or any required limb, from a finger to a leg, with one
stroke of a grout sword ; while that of another was the inflic-
tion of the maximum number of wounds and injuries without
causing the death of the victim.

They were skilled labourers and their work was their
hobby. . . .

I could tell of some very remarkable adventures, risks,
dangers, and scapes in Agades, and ,jf some very strange
doings in that horrible " palace " with its plots and intrigues,
jealousies and hatreds, factions and parties, if space permitted.

And when our time and opportunity came (and we were led
one dark night to where four camels, with water arid food for
two or three ^lays, awaited us) we would not have taken
advantage, of the chance, being weaponless, had we not felt
that we ran a greater danger by remaining.

ISHMAELITES 397

TegamA was growing more suspicious and more truculent,
and I rather think that the dumb Hank and Buddy had been
overheard in fluent converse. Probably \ve gave ourselves
away too (whenever we ato, drank, prayed, sat, stood, sneozed,
or did anything else whatsoever), as the weirdest kind of weird
Mussulmans who ever said, " Bismillaharahmanarahmim "

It was time to go and we went, aided by a young person
of magnificent physique, magnificent courage, and negroid
ancestry probably the daughter of some negro slave-woman
from Lake Tchad. . . .

Unfortunately it was utterly impossible for her to get us
^eapons

3.

We escaped from Togama, but not from the consequences
of our encounter with him. lie did not destroy us, but it
was to him that we owed our destruction.

Riding as hard as we could, we followed the tactics of our
escape from Zinderncuf, feeling sure that if Togama pursued
and recaptured us, our fate would be sealed and our deaths
lingering and unpleasant.

'We therefore avoided the caravan-route that runs from
Agades, and struck out into the desert, hoping that, as hither-
to, we should, sooner or later, discover someone or something
that would lead us to water.

After throe days of painful wandering, we chanced upon the
wretched encampment of some aboriginal Beri-Bcri bushmen,
black, almost naked, and armed only with bows and arrows.
They apparently lived by trapping ostriches by means of
tethered foot -traps concealed beneath the bushes and trees,
thorns and acacias, on which the birds feed.

These primitive people were camped beside an inexplicable
pool of water among colossal boulders as big as cathedrals.

Here we rested ourselves and our camels for a day or two,
and then again set out, with our leather water-skins filled and
our food-tags nearly empty.

A couple of days later we were riding in a long line, just
within sight of each other, and scouting for signs of human
beings or water.

398 BEAU GESTB

Hank was on the right of the line, I next to him and half
a mile away, having Buddy on my left, with Digby at the
far end. ,

Looking to my right, I saw Hank, topping a little undula-
tion, suddenly wheel towards me, urging his p camel to its top-
most speed.

As I looked, a crowd of riders swarmed over the skyline, and,
two or three of them, halting their camels, opened fire on us.

Buddy rode at full speed toward me and Hank. Digby was
cut off from view by a tor of rocks.

" Dismount and form sqar'," yelled Hank, riding up.

I knew what he meant. .,

We brought our camels to their knees, made a pretence of
getting out rifles from under the saddles, crouched behind
the camels, and levelled our sticks as though they were guns,
across the backs of the animals, and awaited death.

" This is whar we gits what's comin' to us," said Buddy.

" The durned galoots may not call our bluff," growled Hank.

The band, Hoggar or Tebu robbers by the look of them,
bore down upon us with yells of " Ul-ul-ul-ul-ul-ullah Akbar,"
on pleasure and profit bent the pleasure of slaughtering us
and the profit of taking our camels brandishing swords,
lances, and rifles as they swept along.

I could have wept that we had no rifles. Steady magazine
fire from three marksmen like ourselves, would have brought
the yelling fiends crashing to earth in such numbers as might
have saved us and provided us with much that we sorely
needed.

The feeling of utter impotence was horrible, and like the
impotence of nightmare. ... To bo butchered like sheep
without striking a blow. , . . Could Digby possibly escape ?
... Or would they see his tracks &nd follow him after
slaughtering us? ... There was an excellent chance that
they would pass straight on without crossing his trail. . . .
Would they swerve from our apparently levelled rifles ? No.
On they came. . . . Digby might be well away by now. . . .

And then from somewhere, there rang out loud, clear, and
(to these Arabs) terrible, a bugle-call that portentous bugle-
call, menacing and fateful, that had been almost the last thing

ISHMAELITES . 399

to many desert tribesmen had heard, the bugle-call that an-
nounced the closing of the trap and preluded the hail of bullets
against which no Arab charge could prevail.

The effect was instant and magical. The band swerved to
their right, wheeled, and fled fled to avoid what they thought
a terrible trap* so neatly baited and into which they had so
nearly fallen !

As the^bugle-calls died away, Hank roared orders in French
at the top of his enormous voice, and away to the left a man
was apparently signalling back with excited energy, to the
French forces behind him, " enemy in sight. 11

Evidently the panic-stricken mob of raiders thought that
the danger was behind the spot on which they had first seen
Hank, for they fled in a direction to the right of the rocks
behind which Digby had blown his bugle. . . .

Suddenly my heart leapt into my throat, as one of the
robbers, perhaps their leader or a candidate for leadership,
swerved to the left from the ruck of the fleeing band, and,
either in a spirit of savage vengeance, or the desire, not un-
common with these people, for single combat in the presence
of many onlookers, rode at the man who had exposed himself
to signal back to the French force of which he was evidently
the scout. . . .

" Quick ! " I shouted. " II<?'11 get him," and I found
myself yelling Digby's name.

We scrambled on to our camels, Hank bawling commands in
French, and Buddy yelling devilish war-whoops.

Digby stooped and then poised himself in the attitude of
a javelin- thrower. As the Arab raised his great sword, Digby's
arm shot forward and the Arab reeled, receiving the stone full
in his face, and jerking the camel's head round as he did so.
Digby sprang at the man's leg and pulled him down, the two
falling together. *

They rose simultaneously, the Arab's sword went up,
Digby's fist shot out, and we heard the smack as the man
reeled backwards and fell, his sword dropping from his hand.
Digby Seized it and stood over ftie half-stunned robber, who
was twitching and clawing at the sand. . . % .

And then we heard another sound.

400 BEAU GE8TE

A rifle was fired, and Digby swayed and fell.

An Arab had wheeled from the tail of the fleeing band, fired
this shot at thirty yards' range, and fled again, we three on
our galloping camels being not a hundred yards from him.

Digby was dead before I got to him, shot through the back
of the head with an expanding bullet. . . .

\Ve tied the Arab's feet, and I blew bugle-calls to the best of
my ability.

I am going to say nothing at all about my feelings.

Digby was dead. Michael was dead. I felt that the essential*
me was dead too.

I lived on like an automaton, and like a creature sentenced
to death I waited for the blow to fall, the moment of collapse
to come.

4-

We buried Digby there, although we expected the return of
the Arabs at any moment.

" He shore gave his life for ourn," said Hank, chewing his
lips.

" ' Greater love hath no man,' " I was able to reply.

Buddy said nothing, but Buddy wept. He then untied
tke completely-recovered Arab, a huge, powerful young fellow,
twice his size, and without weapons on either side, fought him
and beat him insensible.

Discussing the question of this robber's future, I suggested
we should bind his hands, put him on his camel, and make
him our guide bidding him lead us first to the oasis from
which the band had come.

" Lead us not into temptation," said Buddy. " He'd shore
lead us where he wanted us."

Speaking to the man in hifi own tongue, when he had re-
covered from Buddy's handling of him, I asked him what he
was prepared to do to sav,e his life. . . . Could he lead us
south, parallel with the caravan route, from one oasis or
water-hole to another, if we agreed to set him free as soon as
we were in the Kano territory I

ISfTMAELITES 401

He replied that he would willingly lead us to Hell and
cheerfully abide there himself, so long as he got us there too.
He was undoubtedly a brave man.

I told* him that in that case we should take his camel and
weapons (unfortunately for ua he had no rifle), and leave him
where he was, fo die of thirst.

" El Mektub Mektub " (What is written is written), he re-
plied, with a shrug, and that was all we could get out of him.

In the end we took him with us, bound, on his carnel, which
was tied to Buddy's, and left him at the first water-hole to
which we came. This we found by following the track made
J)y his friends as they had come north-ward.

From here we rode on with filled water-skins and half the
food-supply \>f the Arab whom we had abandoned. . . .

Digby's death proved to be the first tragic catjvstrophe of a
series of disasters that now overtook us.

First we encountered a terrible sand-storm that nearly killed
us, and quite obliterated all tracks.

Then we missed the caravan-route when we reluctantly
decided to return to it, either crossing it in ignorance, where
the ground was too rocky for there to be any footprints, or
else riding over the road itself at a spot where all traces of it
had been wiped out, or buried, by the sand-storm.

Next, nearly dead with thirst, we reached a water-hole, and
found it dried up !

Here our starving camels ate some poisonous shrub or other,
speedily sickened, and within thirty-six hours were all dead.

We thus found ourselves stranded in the desert, not knowing
whether the caravan-route was to the east or to the west of us,
without rifles, without food, without camels, and with one
goat-skin containing about a pint of water.

This we decided no*t to drink until we must literally drink or
die, though it seemed that we must surely do that in any case.

For a day we struggled on, incredibly, without water, and
at the end of the day wondered whether we were a day's march
further from the oara van-road on which were oases, wells,
water-holes, and villages. *

Once we found it (if ever), we would risk the French patrols

402 BBAU GESTB

until we^ould again get camels. On the caravan-roijte, death
was probable, here in the desert, on foot, it was certain.

Night found us unable to speak, our lips black, and cracked
in great fissures, our tongues swollen horribly, our throats
closed, and our mouths dry. (It is an incredibly horrible thing
to have one's mouth literally and really dry, like hard leather.)

I pointed at the precious water-skin and raised my eyebrows
interrogatively .

Hank shook his head and pointed at the setting sun and then
at the zenith. We must drink to-morrow when we should, if
possible, be in worse case than now.

We reeled on through the night, for our lives dep^ntfed o^
reaching the " road."

Towards morning, I could go no further and sank down
without meaning to do so. I tried to rise and failed. Seeing
that I could do no more, the other two lay down beside me,
and we fell asleep.

The sun woke me to see Buddy, with a face like death,
staring at a scrap of paper torn from a pocket-book.

He passed it to me. On it was scrawled i

" Pards,

Drink up the water slow and push on quick. Good old
Buddy, we Inn good pards. ,/ ,

Hank was gone. . . .

Buddy untied the neck of the goat-skin and filled his mouth
with water. He held the water in his mouth for a minute and
then swallowed it slowly.

" Take a mouthful like that and then s waller," he croaked
hoarsely.

" We gotta do what Hank ses," he added, as I shook my
head. I could not drink the water.

" We gotta hike," wheezed Buddy. " We don' wanta make
what he done all for nix. All no good, like. He won't come
back an* drink it. ... Yew ain't goin' to waste^ his life,
pard ? . . . He done it fer you. . . ."

I filled my mfouth and swallowed but I could not swallow
the lump in my throat.

ISHMAELITE8 403

We staggered on through that day and the next, moistening
our mouths at intervals, and just before sunset, on the second
day, sa^w a mirage of palm trees, a village, a little white
mosque, and the mirage was real.

We stayed at this village for months, scouring the desert
for Hank, working as cultivators, water-carriers, watchmen,
eamelmen, and at any other job that offered, and we were
aever both asleep at the same time.

When French patrols visited the place, we hid, or fled into
the desert, with the entire sympathy of the villagers. We
could have joined more than one south-bound caravan, but I
would fiot urge Buddy to leave the place.

He had such faith in the indestructibility of Hank, that he
hoped against hope, until hope deferred made his heart sick.

At first it was :

" He'll come mushin' in here ter-morrer, a-throwin' his feet
like the Big Buck Hobo, rollin' his tail like a high-fed hoss,
an* grinnin' fit ter bust. . . ."

Then it was :

" Nobody couldn't kill Hank. . . . He's what you call
ondestructible. . . . W T hy, back in Colorado, he shore chased
a man over the Panamint Mountains an' right across Death
Valley once, an* inter the Funeral Mountains t'other side.
A hoss-rustler, he was, and when ole Hank got him, he was
stone dead with heat an' thirst, an' Hank turned right round
an* hiked back and come out alive ! . . ."

And at last, when a caravan came from the north actually
going south to Zinder (the military headquarters of the
Terntoire Militaire) and comparative civilisation, he proposed
that we should join it as camelmen and guards.

" You can't stop here fer keeps, pard," he said. " I reckon
I bin selfish. But \ couldn't leave ole Hank while there was
a chance. . . ."

But for Michael's letter (and my longing to see Isobel), I
would have urged Buddy to stay, for that was what he really
wanted,,to do. *

Nothing could destroy his faith in his friend's superiority to
the desert and to death. We joined the caikvan as fighting-
men, one dumb, and later (as we neared Zinder) we left it

404 BEAU GESTE

though we had little fear of getting into trouble therp. Still,
it was just possible that some non-com, of the big garrison
there might know and recognise us, and possible that a well-
equipped desert-party of goumiers might have come along
the caravan -road from Zinderneuf.

Our adventures between Zinder and the. British border at
Barbera, where we first saw Ilaussas in the uniform of the
West African Field Force, were numerous, and our hardships
great ; but Fate seemed to have done its worst and now that
I had lost Digby, and Buddy had lost Hank, and neither of us
cared very much what happened, our luck changed and all
went fairly well.

And one day we rode, on miserable donkeys, into the great
city of Kano, and I revealed myself to an astounded English-
man as a compatriot.

He was kindness itself, and put me in communication with
a friend, or rather a friend of Aunt Patricia's, a Mr. Lawrence
of the Nigerian Civil Service. This gentleman sent me money
and an invitation to come and stay with him at his head-
quarters and to bring Buddy with me.

And when I told Buddy that on the morrow he was
actually going to ride in a train once more I found that
he was not.

He had only come to Kano to see me safe, and, having
done so, he was going straight back to look for Hank !

Nothing would shake his determination, and it was waste
of words to try. Nor was it pleasant to strive to persuade him
that his friend was dead.

" Would you go if it was yore brother that was lost, pard ? "
he said.

" Nope. . . . Hank give his life fer us. . . ."

All I could do was to see him fitted out with everything
procurable in Kano a fine camel, a spare 1 " one for food, water,
ammunition, and a small tent, and a Haussa ex-soldier as
eeivant and guide, recommended by the Kano Englishman,
an official named MordaumV

The latter made it clear to the Haussa that he was to go
north with this American " explorer," obey him in all things,
receive half his pay before starting, and the other half, \nth

ISHMAELITE8 405

a bonus depending in value upon his merit, when he returned
to Kano with his master, or honourably discharged.

Montyunt was good enough to accept my word that if h*
would be my banker in this matter, I would adjust things at
soon as I saw IVJr. Lawrence, who was an old friend of his.

I hated parting with the staunch, brave, great-hearted little
Buddy, and I felt that he would never return to Kano unless it
was withtHank, and I had no hope whatever of his doing
that. . . .

I wondered if I should ever have had the cold iron courage
to go voluntarily back into that Hell, after escaping it by a
^niraolej on such a ghost of a chance of rinding a friend. . . .

5.

I took the train at Kano to some place of which I have for-
gotten the name, and Lawrence met me on the platform. I
remembered his face as soon as I saw it, as that of the quiet,
rather dour and repellent man who had been to Brandon
Abbas two or three times when we were there.

He came nearer to showing excitement, while he listened
to my story, than I thought was his wont. When I had
finished he said :

" I should like to know when fiction was much stranger than
this piece of truth ! . . . And you still do not know the rights
of this ' Blue Water ' mystery ? "

" No," I said. " I only know that my brother Michael never
stole anything in his life."

" Quite so," he replied. " Of course. . . . And now I have
something to tell you. Your Major de Beaujolais was sent
down to Zinder and from there he went home on leave via
Kano and on Kano railway-station platform I met him, and
he told me the whole of the story of Zinderneuf Fort from his
side of the business, and about rinding your brother's * con-
fession.' I went on to Brandon Abbas and told Lady Brandon
what he. told me and it really did not seein to interest her
enormously ! "

It was my turn to feel excited now.

Tt was incredible to sit there in a hammock-chair under the

406 BEAU GESTB

African stars, outside this man's tents, a whiskey-and-soda in

my hand and a cheroot in my mouth, and hear him tell how
he had taken our Zinderneuf story to Brandon Abbas, !

I think I was soon past wonder and all power to feel astonish-
ment.

What did strike me and what did give me endless food for
speculation, from then until I saw her, was his account of how
Aunt Patricia had received his incredible news. Apparently
she did not seem even to want to get the wretched jewel back.
Her attitude had puzzled Lawrence, and it puzzled me as he
described it. ...

When Lawrence had finished his tale he gave m\j umcb
Brandon Abbas news.

Sir Hector Brandon was dead, He had died miserably,
alone in Kashmir, of cholera his servants and coolies having
6ed as soon as the disease was recognised for what it was.

The Chaplain had died of what was apparently a paralytic
stroke. Claudia had married one of the richest men in Eng-
land, nearly old enough to be her grandfather,

Augustus, always a poor horseman, had fallen oil his hunter
and been dragged until he was very dead indeed.

Isobel was quite well. No, she had not married. How long
was it since Mr. Lawrence had heard from Lady Brandon ?
Oh, quite recently, only a month or so ago. She wrote more
frequently nowadays. Seemed to have no one to turn to for
advice, now the Chaplain was dead. . . ,

Isobel was well and unmarried ! (I was conscious that I
was breathing more freely and my heart functioning more
regularly than it had done since this grave austere official had
mentioned Claudia's marriage.) . . .

Did she feel towards me as she had done that morning when
I did not say good-bye to her that morning that seemed so
long ago that it might have been in a previous existence, that
morning that was so long ago ?

And so Aunt Patricia knew ! Yet what did she know after
all ? Merely that Michael professed and confessed to be the
single-handed t^ief of the " Blue Water," and that he, and
he alone, was to blame. . . .

Did she yet know the truth as to the theft f

ISHMAELITE8 407

6.

I had been feeling horribly ill for some time, and now I
collapsed altogether with a combination of malarial fever and
dysentery thatjll -omened union after whose attack a man is
never quite the same again.

Had I been Lawrence's own son, he could not have done more
for me, aiir^ the Government doctor, who came post-haste by
rail and horse, was splendid. It was a close call and a long,
slow recovery, but the day came at last when I found myself
weak, shaky, and emaciated on Maidobi platform en route
for Lagoa and home.

George Lawrence was with me, having sworn not to let me
out of his signt until he had delivered mo safe and sound at
Brandon Abbas. I put aside the unworthy thought which
occurred to me that it was himself he yearned to see safe and
sound at that house ! The idea occurred to me when I found
that whatever I said about Michael interested him to the
extent that it bore upon Michael's relations to Aunt
Patricia, and that his interest in the mystery of the " Blue
Water " was limited to its bearing upon Aunt Patricia's
affairs.

And so, one day, I found myself on the deck of a steamer,
breathing glorious sea-air, and looking back upon the receding
coast of horrible Africa, and almost too weak to keep my eyes
from watering and my throat from ewelling, as I realised that
I was leaving behind me all that was mortal of two of the best
and finest men that ever lived ruy brothers, Michael and
Digby. Also two more of the finest men of a different kind,
Hank and Buddy, possibly alive, probably dead (for no word
had come to Kano) and, but for Isobel, I should have wished
that I were dead too. t

But I was glad to be alive, and in my selfishness lei; my joy
lay balm upon my grief for my brothers and my friends for
in my pocket were cables from Isobel, cables dispatched as
soon as , Lawrence's letter reacl&d Brandon Abbas, an-
nouncing my appearance in Nigeria, and the deaths of
Michael and Digby.

408 BEAU GEST1

7-

I will not write of my meeting with her. Those who love,
or ever have loved, can imagine something of what I felt
as I walked to the Bower, which she had elected to be our
meeting-place rather than a railway-platform, or a steamer's
deck.

There was my darling, more beautiful than ever, and, if
possible, more sweet and loving. . . .

Well, joy does not kill, or 1 should not have survived that
hour. Aunt Patricia was coldly kind, at first.

1 was made to feel that she had sent for me one day, and
I had refused to come, and had further disobeyed her by
leaving the house, against her expressed desires !

After lunch, in the drawing-room, the room from which the
4k Blue Water " had disappeared, I gave her, in the presence of
Isobel and George Lawrence, the letter and packet that had
been Michael's charge to me.

She opened tho letter first and read it, and then read aloud
in a clear and steady voice :

" My most dear and admired Aunt Patricia,

When yon get this, I shall be dead, and when you have
read it I shall be forgiven, I hope, for 1 did what 1 thought wa*
best, and what would, in a small measure, repay you for some of
your great goodness to me and my brothers.

My dear Aunt, I knew you had sold the * Blue Water ' to the
Maharajah (for the benefit of the tenants and the estate), and 1
knew you must dread the return of Sir Hector, and his discovery
of the fact, sooner or later.

1 was inside one of the suits of arnrour when you handed
the ' Blue Water ' over to the vizier or agent of the Maharajah.
1 heard everything, and when once you had said what you said
and 1 had heard it - it was pointless for me to confess that 1 knew
but when 1 found that you had had a duplicate made', 1 thought
what a splendi^ thing it would be if only we had a burglary
and the ' Blue Water ' substitute were stolen I The thieves

ISHMAELITES 40D

would be vicely done in the eye, and your sale of the stone would
never be discovered by Sir Hector.

Had I' known how to get into the Priests' Hole and open the
safe, I would have burgled it for you.

Then Sir Hector's letter came, announcing his return t and I
knew that things were desperate and the matter urgent. So 1
spirited away that clever piece of glass or quartz or whatever it
is, and I herewith return it (with apologies). I nearly put it
back after all, the same night, but Vm glad I didn't. (Tell
John this.)

Now I do beg and pray you to let Sir Hector go on think-
ing that I am a common thief and stole the ' Blue Water '
or all this bother that everybody has had will be all for
nothing, and ? shall have failed to shield you from trouble and
annoyance.

If it is not impertinent , may I say that I think you were
absolutely right to sell it, and that the value is a jolly sight better
applied to the health and happiness of the tenants and villagers
and to the productiveness of the farms t than locked up in a safe
in the form of a shining stone that is of no earthly benefit to
anyone.

It nearly made me regret what I had done, when those asses,
Digby and John, had the cheek to bolt too. Honestly, it never
occurred to me that they would do anything so silly. B\d I sup-
pose it is selfish of me to want all the blame and all the fun and
pleasure of doing a little job for you.

I do so hope that all has gone well and turned out as I planned.
I bet Uncle Hector was sick !

Well, my dear Aunt, I can only pray that I have helped you
a little.

With sincerest gratitude for all you have done for ua,

Your loving and admiring nephew,
' Beau '

"A beau geste, indeed," said Aant Patricia, and for the
only time in my life, I saw her put her handkerchief to her
yei.

410 BEAU GESTE

* * * * *

Extract from a letter from George Lawrence, Esq., O.M.G.,
of His Majesty's Nigerian Civil Service, to Colonel Henri de
Beaujolais, Colonel of Spahis, XlXth (African) Arxn^ Corps :

" . . . And so that is the other side of the diory, my friend.
Alas, for those two splendid boys, Michael and Digby Oeste. . . .

And the remaining piece of news is tJiat I do most sincerely
hope that you will be able to come over to England in June.

You are the best man I know, Jolly, and I want you to be my
Best Man, a desire heartily shared by Lady Brandon.

Fancy, old cabbage, after more than thirty years of devotion,?
. . . I feel like a boy !

And that fine boy, John, is going to marry tht ' so beautiful
child ' whom you remembered. Lady Brandon is being a fairy
godmother to them, indeed. I think she feels she is somehow
doing something for MicJiael by smoothing their path so. . . ."

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